Champion
by OctaviusOwl
Summary: Voldemort won the war. Harry Evans attends Hogwarts where discrimination is rampant. Voldemort rules Britain but a Resistance movement is fighting back. No one knows much about them for sure, except for their name: The Marauders. Fourth Year. TriWizard Tournament. AU.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter. Reviews and flames welcome. Enjoy.

Wand raised, Harry Evans stared across the room and waited for his opponent to make a move. Nott stared right back at him before slashing his wand downwards sending a Cutting curse in his direction, but Harry was already on the move. Sliding to his left he threw out two quick Stunners before having to duck under a Disarming spell. Dropping to one knee Harry answered back with a Bludgeoner aimed at Nott's knees which was easily blocked with a Protego. What he couldn't block with the shield was the length of chain Harry had sent which wrapped itself tightly around Nott's legs causing him to fall over. He managed to hold onto his wand and from the ground he began hurling Stunners and Disarming spells in Harry's general direction, but with his lack of mobility the duel was all but over. Harry quickly advanced on him, easily dodging the wild spells, before letting a Bludgeoner of his own loose at Nott's torso; knocking him to the ground and sending his wand flying.

"Winner. Harry Evans. Let Mr. Nott go, Evans." With a quick nod Harry vanished the chains and returned to his seat before his professor decided he wasn't done with him just yet. Meanwhile, Nott glared a hole through Harry before getting up and stomping towards his seat. "Just a moment, Mr. Nott," Professor Dolohov ordered. "Come up here." After one final glare at Harry, who did his best to avoid his gaze, Nott returned to the front of the room and stood in front of Professor Dolohov. "Now, could you please tell me what just happened?" Dolohov towered above his student and fixed him with an expectant stare.

"I lost," the boy mumbled.

"What was that?"

"I said I lost," Nott answered loudly, "Evans beat me."

"Yes, he did. Harry Evans, a mere halfblood, beat you. Rather soundly in fact. Tell me, Mr. Nott, do you believe that purebloods are superior to halfbloods?"

"Yes, sir," Nott answered. Harry stared straight ahead, refusing to watch the scene in front of him unfold. He could feel his face flush red with anger. He had beaten Nott fair and square. He had proved he was better. Yet now he was forced to listen to his professor stand in front of the class and insult him. He clenched his teeth together as Dolohov continued.

"As you well should. What just happened class was a lesson. And a very important one at that. Should you fail to study, should you fail to do the work and learn what I teach, you will lose. Even to someone inferior to you as Mr. Evans just demonstrated. Mr Evans!" Harry's head snapped towards Dolohov at the shout. "Are you Mr. Nott's inferior or his superior?"

"Based on that duel, sir?" Harry grunted in pain as Dolohov sent a Stinging hex at his arm. He raised his eyebrows and continued to stare at Harry. The rest of the class was deadly silent. "His inferior, sir," Harry ground out.

"Excellent, yes, indeed you are. Why? Granger, why is Mr. Evans inferior to Mr. Nott?" Harry cast a quick glance to his left where Hermione was sitting. Her face turned bright red at the question. At the front of the room Nott was smirking triumphantly at Harry.

"Because he is a halfblood, sir," Hermione answered quietly.

"Exactly, Granger, exactly," Dolohov beamed. "And why are you inferior to Mr. Evans?" If possible Hermione's face turned even brighter red. Harry clenched his wand beneath the desk. He wanted nothing more than to curse Dolohov and make him hurt. Everyone knew how the blood system worked, that the purebloods were on top. Most of the professors simply ignored it as long as the students performed well. Not Dolohov. He got a sick pleasure in tormenting the non pureblood students. As such, Dueling and the Dark Arts was the least enjoyable class at Hogwarts. Unless you were a pureblood, that is.

"Because, sir, I am a Mudblood," Hermione answered as the bell rang. Her voice was soft when she said it but her eyes were hard. Harry recalled first year when Dolohov had played this game with the students and reduced Hermione to tears. The sadistic man had enjoyed every second of it. Gathering up his things Harry followed Hermione and the rest of the students towards the door. Nott bumped him hard on the shoulder as he walked past. Harry just gritted his teeth and kept moving. Once they were safely away from the classroom he caught up to Hermione.

"I fucking hate that guy."

"Language, Harry. There's no reason for profanity," she answered tiredly. "At least we don't have him again until next week."

"True enough. I just can't stand him. I hope one day it's him I'm dueling instead of Nott."

"As good as you are, Harry, I don't think you would want to duel Professor Dolohov. I've read the accounts of the war you know. He killed Mad-Eye Moody, you know. And he was supposed to be one of the greatest Aurors of the day." Harry turned and looked at her in surprise.

"Moody? I've heard of him. My mum's talked about him before. Apparently he was right crazy. Dolohov may be good, but one day I'll be better. And he's going to regret being such a jackass."

"Let's not talk about it anymore! Just let it go," she she exclaimed, "Let's talk about something else, like what do you think is going to happen tonight? Why would Snape make a mandatory dinner?"

"Dunno," Harry answered, "Maybe he took a cooking class over the summer and wants to show off."

"You know, Harry," Hermione said, "Sometimes, you're just fucking weird."

* * *

Harry took a sip of his pumpkin juice and surveyed the Great Hall. Next to him Hermione had already finished eating and was skimming through her Transfiguration textbook. Friday evening and the first week of classes behind them might mean a break for most normal people, but Hermione Granger was anything but normal. With a slight smile on his face Harry's attention shifted down the table where Ron Weasley was doing his best to flirt with Lavender Brown. It was honestly a little painful to watch as Ron didn't seem to realize chewing and talking at the same time wasn't attractive. If he weren't such a dick Harry might have mentioned it to him. Worse though was the way Lavender was going along with it. If you were a Muggle born and a pureblood gave you the time of day, you didn't have much choice. Even if that pureblood was one as dumb as Weasley.

At the High Table Dolohov was carrying on a conversation with Professor Black who taught Potions. Interestingly enough, Professor Black's brother was heavily rumored to be a member of the resistance group known as the Marauders. If a student was caught talking about that in front of Professor Black however, they would be dealt a swift and painful punishment as Harry and Seamus had discovered in their second year. Next to them were Professor Shaw who taught Charms and Selwynn who taught Transfiguration. On the other end sat one of the few remaining teacher's from before the war Professor Sprout who was deep in conversation with Professor Vector. And in the middle of them all sat the great greasy bastard himself, Headmaster Snape. Harry knew the man hated him with as often as he singled him out. And he knew there had to be some kind of history between the man and his mum based on the way she grew quiet and angry whenever his name came up. Yes, there was definitely something wrong with the man. Harry's thoughts were broken up as Snape suddenly stood up causing a hush to fall over the Great Hall. He spoke quietly but his words were heard clearly by everyone in the room.

"This year at Hogwarts there will be no Quidditch. The end of the year Dueling Tournament will still take place, however, there will also be another, and far more prestigious event held here this year. For the first time in centuries we will be hosting the TriWizard Tournament." A shocked murmur ran through the Great Hall which Snape silenced with a look. "I will not go into great detail at the moment," he spoke, "But I will tell you that Beauxbatons Academy and Durmstrang will be sending delegations here to compete. Each school will have a single Champion selected to compete. If you wish to enter, you must first inform your Head of House. We want to ensure that someone...appropriate represents Hogwarts." Harry could see the smirk playing on Snape's mouth as he said this and knew exactly what he meant-if you weren't pureblood, you didn't have a chance.

"The winner of the Tournament will receive one thousand Galleons in addition to the glory. I will be most disappointed if the winner is not sitting in the Hall at this very moment. I will expect all of you to be on you best behavior for the duration of the Tournament. Anyone who embarrasses this school and this country will not answer only to me, but to the Dark Lord himself. He has put a great amount of effort into this Tournament and will be most displeased should anyone damage our nation's reputation. More information can be found on bulletin boards in your respective Houses. Dismissed." The Great Hall erupted as students began heading for the exit while simultaneously proclaiming their intent to enter the Tournament-whatever it was-and win; for Hogwarts, for glory, but mostly, for the thousand Galleons.

"What do you think, Hermione? Would you do it?" Harry asked excitedly as they made their way towards the common room.

"We don't even know what it entails, Harry, it could be anything," she responded exasperatedly. "Don't tell me you want to enter! You heard what Snape said. A pureblood is going to represent Hogwarts, and given the options that means I'll most likely be rooting against whoever is selected from Hogwarts."

"Yeah," Harry laughed, "But a thousand Galleons. I mean, that's a lot of money. If I won that my mum wouldn't have to work so much. You're right though, it's going to be a pureblood. It was just...I don't know. Stupid."

"It's not stupid, Harry,' Hermione answered sadly. "I think you'd make a great Champion." Harry smiled and put his arm around Hermione's shoulder as they entered the common room. Hogwarts might be full of some awful people, he thought, but it also had Hermione. And it didn't get much better than that.

A/N: Next chapter some more background on the world.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter. Reviews and flames are welcome. Enjoy.

Harry couldn't sleep. He rolled over in his bed and stared out the window. There was a full moon tonight. Seamus' snores echoed throughout the room until Harry finally had enough and cast a Silencing spell around his bed. He didn't mind sharing a room with two other boys, but sometimes it would have been nice to have some privacy. Especially since he was the odd man out in his room. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas had been best mates since the first week of first year. And while Harry was friends was both of them, they were often off doing their own thing.

The other two boys in his year had a separate room. Neville Longbottom and Ron Weasley were both pureblood and as such they were deemed to important to room with the likes of Harry and his roommates. Neville was alright really, he was a quiet chap who mostly kept to himself. He wasn't much for Potions, but there weren't too many in the year who could keep pace with Neville when it came to Charms.

Ron on the other hand was a problem. He came from a large family, a family that had been on the losing side of the war. Fortunately for them however, they were purebloods. Which meant that once they had sworn loyalty to Voldemort, they were lifted high into society, much higher than they had ever been before. They may be the lowest of the purebloods, but that still made them higher than everyone else. The twins seemed alright, at least they were always good for a laugh. Ron seemed to love the power though. He loved bullying the younger years. He had made a special point to visit the non pureblooded first years their first night at Hogwarts this year to remind them where there place was: beneath him. Harry had not yet seen him act violent towards anyone but with the way he bullied them he had a feeling it wasn't far off. And there really wasn't much he could do about it.

Ever since Voldemort had come into power there had been a dramatic change in Wizarding culture. Or so his mum said anyway. Harry had only been four when the war ended. His mum had told him how when she went to Hogwarts there was still discrimination, but nothing like it was now. Back then people were punished for such actions. She told him stories of the Headmaster when she was in school, a man named Albus Dumbledore. He was kind, intelligent, and extremely powerful. He had been her idol. Voldemort killed him in the final battle of the war. A lot of great people had died during that war.

Including his dad. Quietly, Harry reached under his pillow and pulled out the one photo of his dad his mum allowed him to take to Hogwarts. He couldn't take many because if a teacher saw it they would confiscate it. In the picture his dad was sitting on a broomstick and holding a four year old Harry in place in front of him. They both had huge smiles on their faces. After looking at it for a few moments Harry folded it and placed it back under his pillow. His dad didn't live long enough to see the final battle. Harry knew he didn't die in an actual battle, he had been murdered by someone. He had a feeling his mum knew he it was, but she refused to talk about it. Whoever it was it didn't matter anyway. Their side won so their crimes were forgiven by Voldemort, or worse: celebrated and rewarded.

After the war Voldemort had stripped him and his mum of his dad's last name and all of his possessions. Mudbloods like Lily Evans didn't deserve the right to go by a pureblood name like Potter. She didn't deserve any of the Potter money or properties. She didn't even deserve the wedding ring James had given her. They had taken it all. That was how the war ended for Harry and his mum. James dead and all of their worldly possessions taken from them. Even their last name. Luckily Lily was a talented witch and was able to get a job at St. Mungo's brewing potions. She didn't earn much, but it was enough to get by. When Snape had said the winner of the Tournament would receive one thousand Galleons Harry had dared to hope that maybe he would have a chance to win. He could ease his mum's burden and give them some security. But he knew there was no chance. Snape would never allow a halfblood to represent Hogwarts. It made him so angry. He was more talented than anyone in his year and he knew it! He had been the first one to cast an actual spell, the first one to master silent casting, hell he was still the only one in his year besides Malfoy who could Conjure objects.

` His mum had been shocked at that. Said they hadn't even taught that until she was in her fifth year. The professors at Hogwarts may be bastards, Harry thought, but they definitely provided motivation to learn. With the Tournament out of the question his thoughts turned towards the end of the year Dueling Tournament. As a fourth year this would be the first year he was allowed to compete. He was sure he could place well in it. The upper year students may have learned more but Harry was confident he was just as strong. He'd just have to be creative. He could also count on one of the main competitors being unable to compete because of the Tournament. Despite everyone claiming they would be champion, by the end of the night the general discussion in the Gryffindor common room had narrowed it down to a handful of students. There was Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff, Alice Boot of Ravenclaw, and Edward Rosier of Slytherin. If Snape chose Harry knew Rosier would be Champion. He was the poster boy of Slytherin House. Popular, near the top of all his classes, good looking, and a complete and total prick. Personally, Harry was pulling for Cedric. He was a pureblood but he had never seen him look down on anybody. In fact Cedric had helped him with his own homework a time or two in the library when Harry had been struggling. Yes, Harry thought, Cedric would make a great Champion for Hogwarts.

* * *

The next morning was a Saturday and it found Harry lounging in a chair Charming all of the leftover scrap parchment people left out from the night before into tiny paper men who were waging war against one another. In the chair next to him Hermione read her Charms text and gave Harry suggestions on how to improve the battle whenever she could.

"So swish to the left followed by a drop should do it?" Harry asked doubtfully as he swished his wand at the paper soldiers and said the incantation.

"No, no," she said, "Swish to the left then drop it down sharply."

"I am doing it sharply!"

"Do it sharper, then." Suddenly one of the soldiers who was stabbed let out a tiny scream.

"...Ok you were right. Giving them voices is kind of creepy actually."

"And charming things to life only to have them fight to the death isn't creepy itself?"

"Point taken. Did you read the notice on the bulletin board? Who am I kidding, of course you did. Only one week until they all get here! I can't wait. I wonder what they'll be like. I wonder if they'll even speak English."

"I just hope we actually have a chance to interact with them. It would be fascinating to learn how other schools teach magic. I wish we could do some sort of exchange program," Hermione had set her book down and was looking off into the distance with a dreamy look in her eyes. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Every other girl in this castle is going crazy imagining all these foreign guys coming here soon and all you can imagine is learning what it would be like to hear a teacher say 'I'd like two rolls on proper dueling technique' in French."

"Oh, shut up. You would love to get out of here as much as I would." She glanced around to make sure they were alone. "I don't know about Durmstrang but I do know in France they don't have them same kind of pureblood nonsense we have here. Can you imagine? It must be wonderful."

"Would be nice. Going to be a nice little shock for any non purebloods they bring over here though. First time they interact with Ron or Malfoy and they'll be on the first Portkey out of here," Harry laughed. "Too bad Quidditch is cancelled this year," he continued, "It would have been cool to play some new teams. They should have made that part of the competition."

"I think if Snape could he would ban Quidditch here. I don't think I've ever seen him at a game. So now that you've had a night to think on it, would you still enter the Tournament if you could?" She asked looking at him curiously.

"I honestly don't know," he said. "At this point I've just resigned myself to watching it and hopefully cheering Cedric on. I'm going to start training up for the Dueling Tournament. If the two of us practice together all year we could do some damage in it I think."

"Maybe you," Hermione said, "But dueling isn't really my thing if you haven't noticed. I think too much up there. I need to improve my reflexes."

"We can work on that, you know. We've got all year."

"That's a goo idea-Ow! What was that?!" Hermione shrieked while pulling out her wand. But Harry was already retreating back to his dorm.

"Pinching hex," he yelled over his shoulder, "Never too early too-Ow! Fuck!" He stumbled into his room and fell face first onto the floor. Rolling over he saw Hermione walk into the doorway with a large smile on her face.

"Bludgeoner. Guess I don't need to work on my accuracy."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter. Reviews and flames welcome. Enjoy.

Harry stood outside in the middle of a large group of Gryffindors. All of the students were lined up outside the main doors to await the arrival of their foreign guests. As excited as he had been about the Tournament the previous week, he found it difficult to care very much at the moment. The last week had been one of the worst weeks he had ever had at Hogwarts. And it had all started in that bastard Dolohov's class.

* * *

"You are all fourth year students now. You are over halfway done with you schooling here at Hogwarts," Professor Dolohov stalked up and down the silent rows of students as he talked. Harry made eye contact with him as he passed. A dark, ugly scar ran down the man's forehead, across his pale blue eye, and down the side of his cheek. He paused when he caught Harry's eye and continued with a sneer, "Some of you have proven proficient if nothing else in the art of dueling. However, you will all notice that Dueling is only half of the name of this class. Dueling and the Dark Arts. You are all, or should be at this point, magically developed and mentally developed enough to be able to begin casting Dark curses." He walked back up to the front of the classroom and leaned against his desk, his wand twirling excitedly in his hand.

"Can anyone tell me the three most famous Dark curses?" A number of hands, mostly from Slytherin students, shot into the air. Harry was well aware of the three curses Dolohov was talking about. He was sure most of the room was. He also had a very bad feeling about this lesson all of the sudden. "Ms. Parkinson. Name one."

"The Imperius Curse, sir. It allows the caster to control their victim entirely."

"Excellent, Ms. Parkinson, Excellent. Can you also tell me the incantation of the spell?"

"Imperio, sir," she replied proudly.

"My, my, rather knowledgable of this particular spell, aren't we, Ms. Parkinson. Would you care to try and cast the spell? If you can make it work on another student I will award Slytherin House forty points." A ripple of excitement ran through the Slytherin students at this proclamation and Pansy's face took on a determined look which only increased when Draco Malfoy leaned forward and whispered something into her ear.

"May I cast it on anyone in the room, sir?" Pansy asked with a hungry look in her eye. Harry cast a sidelong glance at Hermione at these words and was not surprised to see that she had paled slightly. It was common knowledge that Pansy had a severe dislike of the girl who regularly out performed her in every class.

"Anyone not pure of blood is acceptable as always," Dolohov smiled knowingly. Harry nearly growled out loud at the answer. If Pansy could actually cast this curse Hermione was about to be humiliated in front of the entire class. For a girl who already had severe self confidence issues, it could cause major damage. Pansy had already left her seat and was circling the classroom. She stopped briefly in front of Lavender Brown. She pulled her wand back causing Lavender to squeal in fright before smirking and moving on. The Slytherins in the room jeered and laughed in Lavender's direction. Also laughing Harry noticed, was none other than Ron Weasley. The same boy who had been blatantly flirting with her the night before. Finally, Pansy's taunting came to an end as she stopped in front of Hermione's desk with a vicious look on her face.

"I think this Mudblood will be acceptable, sir." Hermione paled slightly more but met Pansy's gaze defiantly. From his angle seated next to her though, Harry could distinctly see her hands shaking underneath the table in fear. Pansy stared her victim down a few more seconds, relishing the moment of power, before stabbing her wand forward "Imperio." Harry helplessly watched the scene unfold in front of him, willing and begging Hermione to fight it off or for Pansy to be incompetent with the spell. His hopes turned to dread however when he saw the vacant look in his best friend's eyes and the triumphant grin plastered on Pansy's face.

"Very good, Ms. Parkinson, very good. It does, however, become more difficult to maintain the spell when you give orders to the victim. Let's see if you can maintain control." Professor Dolohov seemed to find the moment highly entertaining if the look on his face was anything to go on. Pansy seemed all to willing to do as he said because suddenly Hermione was standing out of her chair. "The reason you hear nothing, class," Dolohov commented, "Is because orders given via the Imperius Curse are given mentally. This allows the caster to keep their control of another person secret of they so wish and also allows the curse to work over great distances." Hermione had come to a stop in front of Pansy and had sunk down to her knees. Pansy's grin was threatening to wrap around his face. Harry's was glaring at Pansy, mentally promising retribution while fighting the urge to whip is wand out. One well placed Reducto to the face...

"How's that impressive? Not like you need Imperio to get Granger on her knees." Ron Weasley's whisper carried throughout the classroom causing the Slytherins to roar in laughter. It crossed the line for Harry though who whipped around in his seat while pulling his wand out.

"Stupefy!" he raged. The spell smashed into Weasley's face and sent him crashing onto the floor. Harry advanced on the unconscious boy, prepared to continue his assault when he suddenly felt a tug on his ankle and found himself hanging in mid air.

"Mr. Evans, what exactly do you think you are doing in my classroom?!" Dolohov shouted as he advanced upon Harry. Multiple Stinging hexes hit Harry's back causing him to involuntarily cry out in shock. Dolohov released the Levitation spell and Harry crashed roughly to the floor. He could see Seamus and Dean looking at him in shock, Malfoy was sitting forward in his chair eagerly waiting to see what punishment Harry would be dealt. Hermione was staring at him in confusion. Parkinson must have lost control of her spell when Harry attacked Ron. But most frightening of all was Dolohov now towering above the collapsed Harry and staring down at him. He was furious.

"Attacking a pureblood student completely unprovoked! Pathetic coward! Attacking a student who isn't defending themselves? Let's see how you like similar treatment!" Dolohov snarled before summoning Harry's wand to him and casting Enneverate on Ron. "Weasley!" he barked. "Evans attacked you with no provocation. As such I am allowing you to dole out the punishment. The second curse we are to cover is the Cruciatus Curse. The incantation is Crucio. Cast it." A bewildered but angry looking Ron climbed up from the floor and took in the scene before him. Harry glared at the red haired boy as he watched him slowly come to terms with what had just happened. Harry could see the anger growing on Ron's face as he realized what had happened to him. Still though, Harry wasn't sure if Ron was cruel enough to be able to cast a Cruciatus over the incident. He hoped he wasn't. Weasley was advancing on him now though, wand raised.

"Fuck you, Evans," he whispered before slashing down with his wand. "Crucio!" The wind was knocked out of Harry. He felt like he was being kicked in the stomach. It hurt, but not as badly as he'd expected it to. Grimacing, he curled his body up on the floor and bit his lip to avoid making any noises. He wouldn't give Weasley the pleasure of hearing him hurt.

"Impressive, Mr. Weasley," Harry heard Dolohov as the curse let up. "Not many can cast a successful Cruciatus on their first attempt. Your curse will gain intensity with practice. Observe. Crucio!" This time Harry couldn't help the scream that tore from his mouth. His body was on fire. It felt as if needles were stabbing every inch of his skin while his bones were shattered. Pure agony. The spell was lifted after a few seconds, but it was enough to leave Harry shaking uncontrollably on the floor. He heard Dolohov talking but couldn't understand any of it. He could see the other student's leaving the room. He felt Weasley's kick as he passed. Saw Malfoy's arrogant smirk as he stepped purposely on Harry. When he finally was able to control his body enough to stand up he was alone in the classroom. All he could think as he stood in the empty room, still shaking, was that one day he would make these people pay.

* * *

"Look at the sky!"

"What is that?" Shouts were running up and down the student body as a large object dropped out of the sky towards the school. As it approached Harry could make out several giant horses pulling an even larger carriage behind them.

"Abraxans," Hermione whispered from beside him, "I bet it's Beauxbatons." Harry took her word on it. If Hermione was confident enough to venture a guess, she was probably right. And sure enough once the carriage had landed and the students began to file out he distinctly heard them conversing rapidly in French. He was taken aback when the last person, if they even qualified as that, out of the trailer was a woman easily twice as tall as himself. She was huge. Harry chanced a quick glance at the Slytherin section of the crowd and could see them looking at the woman in disgust and mockery. Professor Snape, however, approached her and cordially welcomed her to Hogwarts. No one would ever call the man warm, but he could be polite when he wanted to apparently. The Beauxbatons delegation filed past the Hogwart's student body and into the castle to await the arrival of Durmstrang. With the Gryffindor's lined up the furthest away from the castle doors, Harry was unable to see much of the French students other than their light blue uniforms.

"Think they'll stay in the castle?" he asked Hermione curiously.

"It's possible," she answered, "But I wouldn't be surprised if that carriage was magically enlarged on the inside so they could stay in there if they wanted." Harry was about to answer when the crowd broke out into a clamor.

"The lake! Look at the lake!" Sure enough, there was something emerging from the waters of the lake. Harry heard a first year scream in fright and rolled his eyes at the theatrics the other schools were using to try and impress. They couldn't just use a Portkey? He ate his own words though a second later when a large ship rose up out of the water and headed towards shore.

"Okay," he said slowly, "That was pretty cool."

* * *

"I can't believe it! Viktor Krum here at Hogwarts! He's still in school!" Harry laughed loudly at Seamus' exclamation. It had been hours and the boy still couldn't believe the hero of the Quidditch Cup was at Hogwarts. The feast had been hectic as students from Hogwarts and Beauxbatons alike were in awe of the famous Bulgarian Seeker. They were back in their dorm at the moment but Seamus was still in shock. "I mean, he won the Cup single handedly basically! Stole the victory right out from Ireland!"

"I can't believe you're this excited," Dean commented, "I mean you're Irish. Shouldn't you, you know, hate the guy? He just made your team look silly."

"Well of course I hate him!" Seamus yelled, "He's a right bastard, but that doesn't mean he isn't incredible! The Irish lads will be ready for him next time." Shaking his head Harry tuned out the conversation and shut the hangings on his bed. It had definitely been a crazy night. He hadn't missed the way Durmstrang's Headmaster had seemed to be old friends with Snape and the majority of his professor's. It didn't take him long to figure out where they would know each other from. He was well aware that many of his professor's had been Death Eaters during the war. He couldn't say which ones for sure, but he had a pretty strong feeling that Dolohov at least was one of them. And he had greeted the Durmstrang Head like he was a long lost brother.

The real interesting news of the night had been the Goblet of Fire though. An impartial magical instrument would be selecting the Champions, not Snape. That had to improve Diggory's chances of being selected. It seemed almost inevitable that Krum would be selected from Durmstrang, although he couldn't be too sure. Just because he was talented on a broom didn't necessarily mean that talent would transfer over to his wand work. He had no idea who would be representing Beauxbatons. They had sat at the Ravenclaw table so all he had seen of them was the back of their heads. Not much to go on there really.

Still though, Harry thought, they hadn't announced any restrictions on who could enter their name as a Champion. Only that they had to be approved by their Head of House which was Professor Shaw in Harry's situation. But what if he skipped that step and just tossed his name in without telling anyone? Would they have surveillance on the Cup? The favorites to be named as Champions were all seventh years, and it didn't appear the other schools had brought anyone lower than a sixth year with them. Even if he could enter the Tournament he would likely be outclassed by the competition. In knowledge at least. Harry knew he was one of the magically stronger students at school, but in this Tournament that might not be enough. He had already resigned himself to preparing for the Dueling Tournament, but he couldn't help but dream of competing and winning the TriWizard Tournament every time he closed his eyes. The thousand Galleons, but also the respect he would earn.

Dolohov wouldn't be able to call him inferior if Harry was the Champion of Hogwarts. No one would dare cast the Cruciatus on him then. He would have a name for himself. He wouldn't just be Harry Evans the halfblood. He would be Harry Evans: Champion. With a small smile on his face he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

He had managed to avoid any contact with Ron since the incident in Dark Arts the previous week. Partly to avoid any comments from the ginger and partly so he wouldn't lose his temper and curse him within an inch of his life. Okay, so it was mostly the latter why he avoided him. But living in the same House as Weasley meant that he would come into contact with him sooner or later. And Sunday morning Harry's luck finally ran out.

He was in an abandoned class room at the time working in his Transfiguration. His Conjuring was passable, but it left very tired quickly. Making something out of nothing took a lot of magic. He was working on increasing his stamina so that when the Dueling Tournament came around he would be able to hold his own in duels that dragged on. Plus, being able to Conjure things during a duel was a great advantage. His personal favorite was rocks. They were big, heavy, and varied in size. Send a blast of those at your opponent and they'd be hurting if one got through. It just so happened one of these rocks had blasted the head off of a makeshift dummy he had set up in the room when the door swung open, and Ron Weasley walked in.

Without a word to Harry, he looked at the dummy and nodded looking impressed. He leaned up against a desk and turned his gaze on Harry. He still stayed silent.

"Want something, Weasley?" Ron's lip curled a little bit. He casually slipped his wand out and began tapping it on his leg. Harry eyed it warily.

"Me? Not so much, Evans. It's just curious is all."

"What the hell are you on about? I'm in the middle of something here if you didn't notice," Harry gestured towards the headless dummy. Ron smirked.

"Alright, Evans. I'll make it quick." His expression suddenly turned stony. "Don't think we're even after that cursing I gave you in class. You messed with the wrong person when you attacked me. I'm going to make your life hell."

"Are you done?" Harry asked impatiently. He really wasn't impressed or intimidated by Ron Weasley, nor would he ever be. In a fight he could wipe the floor with him. Ron just smirked again.

"Don't think I don't remember why you were so close to lash out at me. A little comment I made about Granger? Maybe you aren't afraid of what I could do to you," he emphasized as he began to back out the door, "But with some of those spells, just think what I could do to Granger. Or rather, what I could make her do." With one final smirk he slammed the door just as Harry's Bludgeoner smashed into it. Letting out a scream of frustration he kicked the nearest desk over before firing an overpowered Reducto at the headless dummy. The result stopped him in his tracks. The dummy disintegrated and the curse carried past it and took a chunk out of the stone wall. Staring at the damage he caused Harry collapsed to the ground and buried his face in his hands.

He's messed up badly. If he'd let Ron's comment slide in class Hermione would have been embarrassed for sure, but she wouldn't be in danger like she was now. She was a competent witch and should be able to take Weasley in a fair fight. But that was the problem. Weasley wasn't likely to fight fair. Or maybe he was just messing with Harry's head? Harry couldn't get a read on the boy this year. He was still surprised he had managed to cast the Cruciatus on him. He would have to keep an eye on him and warn Hermione. If Weasley did manage to do something to her, it would come down to his word against theirs. And the word of a pureblood always carried more weight than that of a halfblood. Or especially a muggleborn.

His thoughts turned to his best friend. Hermione was great really. She was the smartest person Harry had ever met and that included his mum who he knew was brilliant. Unfortunately, she would probably never be allowed to reach her full potential. It was highly unlikely that a muggleborn like her would be able to rise very high in society once she finished school. It was a tough world for muggleborns. Hermione didn't like to talk about it, but discovering she was a witch was the best and worst thing that ever happened to her. It was amazing because she was finally able to use her magic and realize who she was. It was awful though because of the regulations that Voldemort had enacted once he won the war. All muggleborns were taken from their families once they were discovered and placed either in an orphanage or an apprenticeship.

Hermione had been discovered as a witch when she was only eight years old. She had been taken away from her family and placed in an orphanage. That's when Harry had met her. She was brought to St. Mungo's for a physical before she was sent to the orphanage. Harry had gone to work with his mother that day and had come across the crying girl in the hallway. After a hesitant introduction the two had become fast friends as Hermione was glad to meet someone in the Wizarding World her own age who didn't treat her like dirt while Harry had simply been happy to have someone to talk to. Hermione had been taken to the orphanage after her physical but as Harry continued to go on and on about her to his mum they had eventually paid her a visit in the orphanage. Seeing the tiny girl all alone in there had broken Lily's heart. She saw how much the two enjoyed being in each other's company and had adopted her the same day.

Harry and Hermione had been friends, and siblings, ever since. They always watched out for one another. If Ron Weasley thought he could threaten or hurt Hermione without any retribution from Harry he was about to find out just how wrong he was.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter. Reviews and flames welcome. Enjoy.

* * *

"I'm telling you, Hermione, we need to keep an eye on him. I don't know what he's capable of anymore," Harry insisted quietly. They were sitting a distance away from everyone else at the Gryffindor table. It was the night the Champions would be announced and the feast was winding down. Harry had far more pressing matters on his mind though.

"I'm perfectly able to take care of myself, Harry.I think I can handle Ron Weasley," Hermione replied. Harry shook his head in frustration. She wasn't seeing the bigger picture.

"Yes, I'm well aware you could take Ron in an even fight. What makes you think it's going to be even? I'm telling you he had a crazy look in his eyes. And besides, you need to remember our status around here. If it comes down to he said, we said, he's going to win every time!"

"I don't think I'm in any danger of forgetting my status around here, Harry," she snapped back. "It's impossible to forget with the way we're treated around here. Did you hear what happened to Su Li in Ravenclaw? Zacharias Smith was one to attempt the Imperius Curse in their class and he picked her to practice on!"

"Yeah, I heard about that," Harry answered darkly. "I don't know how these people think they can continue to kick us around like this just because their pureblood. It's ridiculous and I'm sick of it. They've taken away my name and your family. We're all forced to attend Hogwarts and they do their best to strip us of our dignity. Sometimes," Harry paused and glanced around to make sure no one was near before lowering his voice, "Sometimes I think that Marauders group has the right idea about all of this. We could join up after we graduate if we can find them."

"This isn't the place to talk about those kinds of things, Harry," she said nervously. "We can talk about it later, when we're alone. Or better yet when we go home for the holidays."

"Probably right," Harry agreed frowning, "Still. Just an idea. What we really need to figure out is what we're going to do with Weasley-" Harry suddenly fell silent as he noticed the roar in the Great Hall come to a halt. He glanced up at the High Table to see that Snape had stood up.

"I believe," the Headmaster announced, "That the Goblet of Fire is prepared to make its selections." Harry looked around the Hall to gauge the reactions of the rest of the students. The Beauxbatons delegations were holding each other's hands. The students from Durmstrang looked on in stony silence, but they way they leaned forward in their seats gave away their excitement. Sitting next to them at the Slytherin table was the Head Boy Edward Rosier who appeared utterly relaxed. Looking away Harry searched out Diggory at the Hufflepuff table. the boy had his arms interlinked with those on either side of him. He looked like a nervous wreck.

"If your name is called," Snape continued, "You will walk through these doors behind me and into a chamber. Once all three Champions are selected you will be informed the nature of your First Task. And now, we begin!" He whipped the cloth that concealed the Goblet off. It was boiling and spitting out an array of different colored sparks. Within seconds a single sheet of paper shot out of the cup. Snape snagged it from the air. "The Champion from Beauxbatons will be Fleur Delacour!" The students of Hogwarts broke out into polite applause while many of the unchosen French students let out howls of disappointment. Amidst all of this Harry saw a beautiful blond haired witch rise up from the Ravenclaw table. She gracefully made her way towards the chamber doors where she was met by Madam Maxime. They shared a brief hug before disappearing into the Chamber.

"Wow," Harry declared, "Just wow."

"What are you on about?" Hermione asked.

"She may be French, but she's still gorgeous."

"You're an idiot." The Goblet began spitting out more sparks and the Hall quieted down in anticipation. Finally, a single paper flew out and it seemed everyone in the room held their breath as Snape snatched the paper out of the air and read it.

"The Champion from Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum!" Unlike the distraught French students, the Durmstrang group erupted in cheers for their classmate. They pounded the table and chanted his name as Krum made his way towards the chamber to join Delacour. Once he was out of sight his peers sat back down and the Great Hall was in utter silence. The next name would be the Hogwarts Champion. Harry glanced back at Diggory who looked almost sick with anticipation. Sparks began to shoot out. A piece of paper flew from the Goblet and every single set of eyes followed its path until Snape plucked it from the air. A smirk spread across his face when he read it.

"The Hogwarts Champion," he declared, "will be Edward Rosier!" The Slytherin table roared its approval. Harry let out a groan and buried his face in his hands. A Slytherin? Not just any Slytherin but Head Boy Edward Rosier. He could almost swear Snape rigged it this way. Maybe Hermione had the right of it and he should just cheer for one of the other schools. Rosier was strutting his way towards the chamber, pausing only to exchange a brief word with the Headmaster before slipping out of sight. "The Champions are chosen. The rest of you may return to your dormitories-" Snape broke off and stared at the Goblet in disbelief. A murmur of confusion ran through the Hall. The Goblet was shooting out sparks again.

"What's up with that?" Harry whispered to Hermione. "Even Snape looks confused."

"I have no idea. But it can't possibly be good." The sparks came to a halt as a final piece of paper flew out of the Goblet. Snape watched it float in the air for a moment before reaching out and gingerly taking a hold of it. After a brief glance at the parchment he crumbled the piece of paper into his hand. He looked up with a glare that promised swift death to somebody. Unfortunately for Harry, Snape was glaring directly at him. Although Snape spoke in barely a whisper, there wasn't a soul in the room who failed to hear him.

"Harry Evans."

* * *

Harry stood on the other side of the door unable to move any further. He was in shock. The three Champions looked at him curiously before the door behind him burst open and Harry was forced to hurry down the stairs to prevent being trampled.

"Evans," Snape snarled, "What is the meaning of this!?" He grabbed Harry's arm tightly and shoved the paper in his face. Sure enough, written there on the piece of parchment was his name.

"I-I don't know, sir," he replied honestly, "I have no-"

"Enough, Evans, out with the truth!" Harry's attention was shifted from Snape to a livid Professor Dolohov. What worried Harry the most was the fact that unlike Snape, Dolohov had his wand drawn.

"Vhat is going on here?" Krum spoke up from behind Harry, "Vhat is happening?"

"It would appear," Karkaroff broke in, "That somehow Mr. Evans name was drawn from the Goblet. Thus giving Hogwarts two Champions. Funnily enough, Severus, but I don't recall anything about the host school receiving special treatment."

"What? Zis leetle boy is to compete! Ridiculous!" Harry's eyes locked onto the French Champion. 'Leetle boy'? Who the hell did she think she was talking to?

"Fuck you, Frenchie!" Harry snapped but before he could say more Snape's grip tightened on him and he received a smack to the face.

"It is an outrage!" Madam Maxime agreed vehemently drowning Harry out, "How could this be allowed to happen?!" Delacour's attention was focused on Harry. She looked ready to curse him on the spot. Great, Harry thought, now if I can just insult Krum everyone in the room can want to kill me.

"Evans is a born trouble maker," Dolohov snapped, "Don't put this on Severus. The only one to blame here is Evans!" Dolohov raised his wand and began advancing on Harry. He attempted to move out of the way but Snape still had his arm in a death grip.

"Is that so, Antonin?" A voice spoke from the top of the stairs. Dolohov froze immediately. He abruptly turned on the spot and lowered his head.

"My Lord, I was unaware you would be attending this evening," he spoke quickly, and if Harry wasn't mistaken, with a hint of fear. Harry soon realized why. Descending from the steps was none other than the ruler of Wizarding Britain, Lord Voldemort. Harry was speechless. He had seen pictures of the man of course, but he had never before seen him in person. Despite being possibly the oldest person in the room, Voldemort appeared to be no older than his mid forties. He moved with a grace that drew every eye in the room to him. No one spoke a word as he advanced on Harry and the Headmaster.

"I do not find it necessary to let professors know of my schedule, Antonin. It appears lucky that I was able to come tonight. You seem to forget your place, old friend. I see Champions and their Headmasters in this room. Why is it my Dark Arts teacher feels the need to be here as well?"

"My Lord, the Evans brat, I thought-"

"You thought Severus might need your assistance with the matter? I assure you, he does not. I expect you to control your staff better in the future, Severus. Leave us, Dolohov." The professor exited the room as rapidly as he could without running. Once the door had shut behind him the Dark Lord returned his attention to Harry. Taking a deep breath, Harry willed himself to look at the man's face. He found the Dark Lord studying him curiously. "Mr. Evans, did you enter this Tournament?" He asked the question softly, but Harry felt a shiver of fear run through him all the same. He also felt a sudden pain in his head as the Dark Lord looked into his eyes.

"No," Harry answered and felt a sharp squeeze on his arm from Snape, "No, my Lord," he quickly amended, "I did not." The Dark Lord maintained eye contact with him for another moment before turning to the others in the chamber.

"It would appear young Harry is telling the truth. Indeed, I feel that this matter will require my personal attention. Rest assured Igor, Madame Maxime, that this was entirely unexpected. With that being said, I fail to see your cause for concern. Mr. Evans is merely a fourth year. While he is required to participate in this Tournament due to the binding magical contract the Goblet creates, it seems to me that a boy of his age will struggle simply to keep up in the competition. The three original Champions were chosen as the best of your respective schools. Surely none of you can be afraid they will be defeated by a fourth year?" Voldemort looked around the room and received no objections. Karkaroff had his head bowed towards the man in deference. Madam Maxime did not look happy, but she apparently had no argument to counter the man. "That's settled then," Voldemort smiled. It was the most terrifying sight Harry had seen all night. "The First Task you will be facing will test your daring and innovativeness. As such you will not find out what the task is until the day of the First Task October the 23rd. Now, if you would all excuse me, I have matters to discuss with Severus. Champions, congratulations on being chosen, and good luck. I will be watching you all with great interest."

Harry pulled his arm free from Snape's grasp and quickly made his way towards the door. The Dark Lord had sent chills down his spine. He needed to be away from the man and out of the room. He was out the doors of the Great Hall and heading up the staircase towards Gryffindor tower when a voice called out to him.

"Evans. Hold on a minute. I'd like to talk to you." Surprised, Harry paused and turned to see Edward Rosier standing at the bottom of the staircase. He had no wand out and appeared to be sincere. Still, Harry was cautious. Rosier was a Slytherin. He knew through the rumor mill that his father had been a Death Eater during the war. Rosier was not someone to take lightly.

"Alright," Harry said slowly as he descended the stairs, "What's up?" He kept his hand near his pocket where he could feel his wand pressing against his leg.

"The Dark Lord says you did not enter yourself in this Tournament, so there is no questioning that fact." Harry relaxed slightly at these words. "You are, however, still entered in the Tournament," Rosier continued, "Which really is truly unfortunate. For you that is. You see, I have been aware of this Tournament since last school year. I have been preparing for it. This Tournament is my chance to make a name for myself as Champion of Hogwarts. To beat the best that Europe has to offer. And yet now I fear my claim to Hogwart's Champion is forever sullied as I must share that distinction with a pathetic halfblood such as yourself."

Harry was tense again. He could feel the wand on his leg. His hands were clenched in anger. "Essentially what I am trying to say here is this: you may technically be a Champion now. But you are still dirt compared to me. I will crush you in this Tournament without a second thought. Not only will I prove that Britain is superior to the rest of Europe, I will prove once and for all that purebloods are superior. I will prove that you, Evans, are halfblood trash and that you and your Mudblood friends do not belong in our world. See you on the twenty-third," Rosier finished coldly. Without a second glance at Harry he turned on his heel and strode towards the dungeons.

Harry stood alone on the staircase, forcing himself to take deep breaths. The urge to curse Rosier had been high but he knew the older boy could destroy him. Harry may be powerful, but Rosier was strong as well and had three more years of schooling. His dreams of being entered into the TriWizard Tournament were spiraling into a nightmare. A noise near the Great Hall caused Harry to wrench his gaze in the direction. Standing just outside the Hall's doors was the French Champion, Fleur Delacour. An unreadable expression was on her face. She opened her mouth to say something but Harry had heard enough. Turning he dashed up the stairs towards Gryffindor tower leaving the girl alone in the hallway.

Harry's mind was a blur as he climbed towards the tower. Little boy, halfblood trash, and the way the Dark Lord had spoken of him? As if he barely had a chance of staying afloat in the Tournament, let alone competing. Well he was in it now. There was nothing they could do about it. All he had to do was get to training and bust his ass. He'd show these pureblooded assholes just who they were messing with. As he was contemplating where he would train for the upcoming tasks and who, if anyone besides Hermione, would help him, a curse smashed into his back and sent him tumbling over. Through the pain all Harry could think was, what now? He reached for his wand only to have a foot stomp on his back and pin him to the ground.

"Think you're something special, Evans? You're nothing. I don't know how you got your name selected but you are going to regret it." A second foot kicked him in the ribs causing a gasp to escape his mouth. The foot on his back was picked up and Harry rolled over to see who is attackers were. He was fully expecting the red haired boy he saw standing above him sneering. He'd thought he'd recognized Weasley's voice. What he hadn't expected were the other two boys standing on either side of him. Terry Boot from Ravenclaw and Zacharias Smith from Hufflepuff. He had a brief moment to register the identity of his attackers before another spell smashed into him and cut his shoulder wide open. At that moment, Harry lost it. All of the insults he had sat through, the Cruciatus from Dolohov and Weasley, the threats against Hermione, and now this cowardly ambush. With a yell Harry jumped to his feet and charged his attackers.

Two more spells hit him but he didn't stop until he crashed into Weasley. With a thud the two boys crashed into the floor. Harry connected with a punch to the boys face while pulling his wand out with is other hand. Instinctively, he rolled off the ginger and two spells sailed over him. He flicked his wrist towards the Ravenclaw and let loose a powerful Bludgeoning curse. The close distance made it impossible for Boot to dodge and the spell sent him crashing backwards into the wall. Harry rounded on Smith who was backing away in fear now that he no longer had the numbers advantage. Harry threw a Stunner at him but Smith blocked it before turning a corner and disappearing. With Smith gone and Boot down for the count Harry walked over to Weasley and kicked the boy's wand away as he continued to moan in pain from Harry's punch. Harry kneeled down and pulled the boy up by his collar.

"If you ever go near Hermione this will some like a friendly conversation. Hurt her and I will end you." He threw the boy down and heard a satisfying thud of his head hitting stone. Pocketing his wand Harry turned and once again resumed his walk towards the common room when the sound of applause made him freeze in his tracks. Up ahead he could make out a few dark figures walking towards him. He slid his hand back into his pocket and gripped his wand.

"Easy there, mate, it's us. That was a hell of a show."

"Seamus?" Harry asked disbelievingly, "What are you doing here?"

"We," came a familiar female voice, "noticed Ron was missing from the common room and thought he might be trying to pull something stupid."

"Which he was," Seamus added.

"You're kind of scary when you're angry you know that, Harry?" The figures had become clear to Harry and he sighed with relief.

"Only if your name is Weasley, Dean," he replied laughing. "You guys were coming to help me out?"

"Well we were until you went ape shit on those three," Seamus gestured to the still limp bodies of Ron and Terry Boot. "That was pretty fucking incredible. Here we were all worried about how you were going to hold up in the Tournament and you're already kicking some ass!" Harry frowned.

"You guys do know I didn't enter myself into the Tournament, don't you?" he asked.

"Course we do!" Seamus exclaimed. Hermione directed a withering glare in his direction. "Well, that is to say we were made aware of that by a rather insistent adopted sibling of yours. Think she made Dean wet himself."

"Oi! You were the one screaming like a girl when she-"

"Enough, boys," Hermione broke in. "Harry I'm glad you're safe but we all need to get back to the common room before a patrol comes by. We don't need anymore trouble tonight."

"Too right you are," Harry agreed fervently.

"So Hogwarts Champion eh, Harry?" Seamus prodded as they made their way to the common room.

"I think Rosier's technically the Hogwarts Champion. Told me off proper on my way back here for daring to even be in the Tournament," Harry said. "Bloody prick."

"Well fuck him," Seamus exclaimed cheerily, "Fuck him right up the arse. He can be the bloody Hogwarts Champion. But you, Harry, you're something better."

"Oh really? And what's that?"

"You're Harry fucking Evans! Future winner of the TriWizard Tournament!" Harry couldn't help but grin. This might not be so bad after all.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I do not own Harry Potter.

_A Fourth Champion?_

_by Rita Skeeter_

_The Tri-Wizard Tournament, the most prestigious international competition in the Wizarding World, has picked up right where it left off: With controversy. The Tournament has never been absent of it, and indeed it was when the death toll mounted too high that the Tournament was cancelled in the first place. Throughout the years the Tournament has seen death, cheating, and rumors of a fixed result in one instance. But this year's Tournament bring's with it something that has never before occurred: A fourth Champion._

_Last night, after the selection of the three school Champions, the ceremony was winding down when the Goblet of Fire stunningly put forth a new name. Harry Evans, a fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, mysteriously had his name emerge from the Goblet. Shock was evident within the Great Hall. Many leaped to the conclusion the boy had somehow hoodwinked the Goblet into selecting him when his school's Champion had already been named, but our seemingly all knowing Lord Voldemort quickly put an end to the rumors._

_"Harry Evans is in no way responsible for the events of last night," Lord Voldemort told reporters, "The Goblet of Fire is an extremely powerful magical object. Mr. Evans is a mere fourth year. His inclusion in the Tournament has forced us to make some slight changes to the Tournament in order to accommodate a fourth participant, but nothing more. I will address the matter personally. In the meantime, let us enjoy the Tournament and show support to the true Champions, especially I might add, Hogwarts' own Edward Rosier."_

_Indeed, Lord Voldemort said it best. While Evans dramatic entrance created quite a stir, he is three years of schooling behind the other Champions and of a poor bloodline. It is not a question of if he will be outclassed, but how badly? Let us turn our attention to the true Champions and contenders._

_Edward Rosier, seventh year student, Head Boy, top of his class, and two time winner of the Hogwarts Dueling Tournament. Britain could not have asked for a better representative in this Tournament. Rosier appears to be the favorite going into the First Task with his impressive talent for dueling and high intelligence. The Slytherin Head Boy has been the top of his class every year since he began attending Hogwarts and shows no signs of giving up the spot this year._

_From Durmstrang a strong challenger appears ready to push Rosier to his limits. Viktor Krum of Quidditch fame has been chosen as his school's Champion. Krum, undoubtedly the most high profile Champion, is well renowned for his skills on a broom. It will be very interesting to see how much, if any, of those skills translate into the Tournament. Still, Durmstrang has a reputation for turning out strong and skilled wizards. Krum would not have been chosen if he did not provide the best Durmstrang has to offer. Watching him battle with Rosier will be fascinating._

_Finally, the Beauxbatons Champion, Fleur Delacour. The lone female in the competition appeared slight and fragile in comparison to the muscular Krum and the tall Rosier. She should have no trouble triumphing over fourth year Harry Evans, but she does not appear to be in the same class as Rosier and Krum. After all, Beauxbatons is known more for Charms and etiquette than anything else. The First Task will show the best the French have to offer, even if there is some question into her family history. Those in attendance last night speculated that the young Champion had a distinctly Veela appearance. It forces one to wonder if the three males she competes against suffer an unfair disadvantage if true. All will be seen soon enough. The First Task is October 23rd. We here at the Daily Prophet wish all the competitors good luck, and wish extra hard for the Hogwarts Champion Edward Rosier!_

* * *

_Harry,_

_What is going on?! I read the paper this morning and got a letter from Hermione late last night. Are you ok? I don't know what to think. This Tournament is DANGEROUS, Harry. It was cancelled for a good reason. You need to be careful this year. You need to practice. If they really are making you compete you need to be ready for anything they throw at you. Hermione will help you. With both of you working together I'll worry a little less. Write back soon. BE CAREFUL._

_Love, Mum_

* * *

"When did you even have time to write to her last night?" Harry asked.

"You were in that room forever it seemed like. The first thing I did was run up to the Owlery and send her a letter explaining what had happened. I figured you would be too distracted too, but I couldn't let her find out through the morning paper," Hermione answered. "I made sure she knew you hadn't entered yourself."

"Thanks for that," Harry sighed, "Last night was beyond hectic. I'd planned on owling her about it today. I'll have to send her an answer after Potions." The two were making there way down to the dungeons for their first class of the day: Potions with Professor Black. Harry had opted to avoid the Great Hall for breakfast that morning to put off the stares and whispers of the rest of the student body. After reading the article in the Daily Prophet that morning, he was even more relieved to have made that decision. Still though, that article, the way they had written him off already...

"They really don't think I'm any good do they?" he blurted out as they neared the classroom. "They all just assume that I'm going to get beaten down. And poor bloodline? My dad was as pure as any of those bastards; my mum's more than their equal." Hermione spared him a brief sympathetic glance before opening the classroom door and leading him inside. They made for a table on the far side of the room; Harry did not want to sit anywhere near the Slytherins today. Unfortunately, this did not deter Draco Malfoy.

The blonde haired boy entered the classroom surrounded by his usual entourage of Slytherins and when he caught Harry's eye, his face lit up. He nodded to Nott who was glaring daggers at Harry; he had never quite gotten over losing the duel to him. The two Slytherins crossed the room and took the seats directly behind Harry and Hermione.

"So, Evans," Draco drawled, "Hogwarts Champion, eh? I wonder, when you die during the Tournament, do you think you'll do so screaming as loudly as when Dolohov Crucio'ed you?" Draco let out a laugh at his joke while Nott continued glaring Harry down.

"Just ignore him," Hermione muttered to Harry who was setting up his Potions supplies with far more force than necessary.

"Or maybe," Draco sneered, "You'll die begging for mercy like your father."

Harry jumped up and whipped around to face Malfoy just the door to the office opened and Professor Black strode in. Without breaking stride he eyed the scene before him.

"Evans, 10 points from Gryffindor. Sit down or it will be detention as well." Furious, Harry sent one last threatening look at a smirking Malfoy before forcing himself into his seat. He was unable to listen to anything Professor Black said during his lecture and simply followed the simple instructions Hermione gave him throughout the class. "Chop these." "Add this." "Measure that."

He had no clue what they were making. All he could hear were Malfoy's last words echoing through his mind again and again. Begging. His father did not beg. It was simply not possible. Malfoy was trying to get under his skin. Begging? His father? What if Malfoy knew how his father died? His own father was high in Voldemort's ranks after all. He could know something. But that...that just had to be a lie. Harry was startled when he realized the lesson was over and began rushing to pack his things.

"Evans. Stay here. I want to talk to you," Professor Black announced. Harry mentally groaned. He must have noticed he wasn't paying attention.

"Go ahead," he muttered to a sympathetic looking Hermione, "I'll catch up." Hermione reached out and briefly squeezed his shoulder before hurrying to catch up with the retreating Gryffindors. He approached Professor Black's desk. They were alone in the room.

"Do you feel you are prepared for the Tournament, Mr. Evans?" Professor Black asked without looking up from the potion vial he was examining. The question caught Harry off guard; he had expected to be disciplined for not paying attention.

"Er, yes, sir. I believe so," he replied hesitantly.

"Then you are a fool. The other Champions have mastered spells you have never attempted. They are the best their schools have to offer. You on the other hand, are simply a fourth year. You may be an exceptionally skilled fourth year, but the fact remains you are not on equal footing with the other Champions." Harry stared at his Professor in confusion.

"Why are you telling me this?" The question came out before he could stop himself. The Professor gave him a long measured look.

"Tell me, Mr. Evans, do you know much about your father?" Harry's mind was reeling. His father? What did he have to do with anything?

"Yes, sir," he answered slowly, "My mum's told me a lot of stories about him. I have some memories left. Why?"

"Did your mother, I wonder," Professor Black mused, "Tell you about your father's friends while he attended Hogwarts?"

"Yeah, actually she did, Professor. I don't understand why this matters though."

"Their names, Mr. Evans. What were the names of his friends?"

"Their names? She, um, well she only ever told me their nicknames. Moony, Wormtail, and Padfoot. Strange nicknames I'll admit. What's going on Professor?"

"Interesting," Professor Black said softly. His eyes seemed to be staring off into the distance. "I will make you a deal, Mr. Evans. If you agree to keep everything that happens between the two of us private, I will help prepare you for this Tournament." Harry was stunned.

"Help me, Professor? I thought we weren't allowed outside help-"

"Answer the question, Mr. Evans. Will you keep our interactions private? From everyone?"

"Even Hermione?"

"Everyone."

"...Yes. But you have to tell me what this is about. Why are you offering to help me?"

"Because, Mr. Evans," he said as he stood up, "The House of Black is in debt to the House of Potter." The man strode towards his office door, but paused before entering. "I will tell you this. Your father most certainly did not die begging anyone for anything." The office door snapped shut and a bewildered Harry Evans was left alone in the room.

* * *

Harry sat in the back if the classroom, head down on his desk and pretending to sleep, as Professor Binns rattled on about yet another goblin rebellion. His own death, a civil war, and a massive overhaul of the Hogwarts' teaching staff and yet Binns was still there, dry and boring as ever. Hermione was the only student managing to keep her eyes open and take notes. Harry suspected she cast some variation of the Cheering Charm on herself before the class in order to stay awake. Either that or she really was just insane. He was glad he had History of Magic right after Potions; it allowed him to reflect on whatever the hell had just happened with Professor Black undisturbed.

The House of Black in the debt of House Potter? What did that mean? And why had the Professor used his father's last name? He had been formally cast out of the family when Voldemort had come into power. He was no longer a Potter. Professor Black could face some serious problems if anyone, especially Headmaster Snape, discovered that he had alluded to Harry still being a Potter. His mum had warned him before he had ever come to school to not reveal his former last name to anyone. They could be punished severely if any purebloods heard a family of halfbloods making claim to a an Ancient and Noble name.

What debt could Professor Black be speaking of? And his last words. "Your father most certainly did not die begging anyone for anything." Had Black known his father? Had he been present when he died even? Harry did not know who had killed his father. All he knew was that his father had fought against Voldemort in the war. His mum had never told him who had been the one to kill him, although Harry suspected she knew. Perhaps it was time to press a little harder for an answer?

If Professor Black had been present when his father had died, who was to say he wasn't in some way responsible for his death? But then why would he offer to help Harry with the Tournament? There were just to many questions and no answers that Harry could imagine. He glanced towards his sister. Hermione might have some ideas. She was brilliant. Even if she didn't have any ideas it would be better to have two people working for answers than just one, right?

And yet, Harry hesitated to tell her. The two shared nearly everything. But this...this was about Harry's father. If he accepted Black's offer of assistance he could have more time to the man to find out if he had known him. If he told Hermione what was going on and Black found out, the deal could be off the table and he would never know what the Professor knew about his dad.

He would not tell Hermione, Harry decided. He would accept the Professor's offer and see if he could find out what he had meant. Hell, he might even stand a better chance in the Tournament with the Professor's help. It should have been an easy choice. Still, Harry was bothered with Black's last words. What if he had seen his father die? What if he was about to accept the help of the man who was responsible for his father's death?

The bell rang signaling the end of class. Harry remained lost his thoughts as he followed Hermione towards the door only to have a voice call out to him.

"Evans, you got a minute?" Surprised, Harry turned around to see an anxious looking Michael Corner behind him. He felt Hermione turn and stand by his side as he looked curiously at Corner. It had just been the other night after all that his House mate had attacked Harry.

"Sure. What's you your mind, Corner?" The boy hesitated as he studied Harry's face before he gave a slight nod and seemed to straighten up.

"I just wanted to let you know that not everyone is discounting you, Harry. We all saw the article in the paper this morning and we've all heard the things people are saying about you." The boy took a deep breath and glanced briefly at Hermione before shifting his gaze back towards Harry. "Some of us are glad to have another option as Hogwarts Champion than that prick Rosier. Someone not like them. Someone who isn't a pureblood. I've seen you in class for the past four years, Harry. I know your talented. You need to show these bigots that blood purity the most important thing in life. You aren't alone in this."

Harry was stunned. This is not what he had expected. He felt a great surge of affection towards the Ravenclaw. He also suddenly felt a great deal more pressure. Were they making him out to be some sort of figure head in an anti pureblood campaign?

"Thank you, Michael, that means a lot," he said after a pause. "What exactly are the other students saying? I missed breakfast this morning so other than Hermione the only person I've really talked to is that git Malfoy." Corner flushed red at this question.

"Well, uh, it's not good, you know," he began, "Really nothing you should pay attention to because you'll prove them wrong once the Tasks start. But a lot of the older students seem to think you're some kind of joke. The Slytherins especially were saying some pretty vile things this morning, Malfoy included. But it isn't just them." Michael paused before reluctantly continuing at Harry's expectant face.

"But it isn't just the Slytherins. A lot of people in my own House were angry you were in the Tournament. A lot of purebloods were mad that someone like you was chosen over them. Then there were some halfbloods like Terry who were angry because they think you being entered is going to make the purebloods retaliate at us. There are a lot of people angry with you, Harry. Ron Weasley was telling everyone who would listen at breakfast that he was going to prove to everyone you didn't deserve to be a Champion. You need to watch out for him."

Harry filed that piece of information away in his mind. Ron Weasley was becoming an increasingly annoying problem.

"I will. Thanks, Michael. For everything." Harry managed a smile at the boy as he rushed past them into the hall before he turned to Hermione. "So let's recap: The purebloods have put a target on my back, the halfbloods of the school are viewing me as some kind of poster boy, and I'm entered into a contest that is infamous for its ridiculously high death toll. Did I forget anything?"

"Well, you are exempt from taking exams as a Champion," Hermione replied with a half hearted smile.

"Facing down potential death in exchange for no exams? That's a pretty decent trade off."

"Of course you'll have to study harder than anyone in our year in order to do your best in the Tournament. Honestly, you'll probably have to master things we won't have to perform in exams for another few years," she continued with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Hermione, sometimes you really need to know when to stop talking."

The rest of the day passed quickly for Harry. He endured numerous stares directed at him and heard plenty of whispers; but he managed to avoid the worst of it by sticking near Hermione and rather unexpectedly Dean and Seamus. The two boys followed Harry nearly everywhere he went for the rest of the day and scared off more than a few students who attempted to approach Harry. He was definitely a little surprised by this turn of events, but wondered if maybe the two boys were feeling guilty for not believing in Harry from the get go. He still had no desire to ask what methods Hermione had used to make them change their minds, although they clearly worked. Luckily for Harry, something else happened that day to divert people's attention away from the events of the previous night.

* * *

"Did you guys hear yet?" An excited Lavender Brown slid in between Harry and Seamus that night at dinner and looked around expectantly.

"Ah...about Harry? Lav, you do realize he's sitting right bleeding here. And we were all here last-"

"Not that, Finnigan, about the Marauders!" She hissed this in what was meant to be a quiet voice and instantly had the attention of everyone at the table. "You haven't? Oh my, it's unbelievable! I can't believe you don't know!" Harry rolled his eyes in agitation. Lavender lived for moments like this. Withholding a piece of information and lavishing the attention it brought her.

"No," Hermione said firmly, "We don't. Now would you tell us?" Lavender's smile dropped slightly at Hermione's question. Doubtless she had hoped to string them on a little longer, Harry thought.

"Well, it's like this," Lavender began, smile returned to full force as she soaked on the stares of those around her, "Apparently Jackson in Hufflepuff got a letter earlier today from his father who works at the Ministry. He told Melissa, who told-"

"Lavender," Harry ground out, "Can you skip who told who and just tell us what happened already?" The girl cast a pout in his direction.

"Fine, Mr. Grouchy. Anyway, basically what the letter said was that the Marauders broke into Gringotts this morning! No one knows if they took anything, but they apparently battled some of the Knights in the middle of Diagon Alley!"

"What?!" The exclamation came from nearly everyone at the table. The Marauders had been around for as long as Harry could remember; the last members of the resistance against Voldemort and his regime. But nothing like this had ever happened before that he could remember. A fight in Diagon Alley? The Knights of Walpurgis were Lord Voldemort's elite; many had even been Death Eaters during the war. The Marauders had fought them?

"Who won?" Dean asked.

"I don't think anyone really did," Lavender replied. "The Marauders vanished pretty quickly. That's all I know. Probably have to find the rest out in the paper tomorrow. See you!" The girl jumped up and ran further down the table, ready to tell the story to the next group of students.

"This is insane," Dean declared. "A fight in Diagon Alley? I can't believe they got away."

"It's pretty crazy," Harry agreed, "I hope the paper has details tomorrow. This is big."

"Look how angry Professor Snape looks," Hermione cut in. It was true, Harry saw, as he looked at the Head Table. The Headmaster had nastier glare than usual on his face tonight. The man was having a fast and furious conversation with Professor Dolohov. This did not bode well, Harry realized. He realized the others were still talking and turned his attention back towards the table.

"But really," Seamus was saying, "Bunch of people out there fighting to get rid of Voldemort? How can that be anything but good? I hope they got something good from the bank." The fact that even Seamus was talking in a whisper showed how dangerous what he was saying was. If he were overheard praising the Marauders or talking of overthrowing Voldemort, the punishment would be severe. The Irish boy cast a quick glance around to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation.

"Makes a person wonder, it does," Seamus continued, "How exactly does one become a Marauder?"

A quick glance around the table showed Harry how this idea was received. Dean's face held a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Hermione appeared strangely curious while Harry himself was intrigued. Joining the Marauders? Was Seamus serious? Obviously, it was ridiculous for the time being; they were still school boys. Maybe after the graduated it was something he could afford to think about. If the Marauders were still around by then that was. After what Lavender had just told them, Harry had a feeling the Marauders might soon be dealing with an irate Lord Voldemort.

Best to not think about it for now, he decided. He had enough to deal with as it was. The First Task was only a month away and he needed to start training.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I do not own Harry Potter. Do you prefer shorter chapters or longer ones? Longer ones mean longer time between updates.

* * *

Saturday. Sweet Merlin, it was finally Saturday. Harry rolled over in his bed and clung to the warmth of his blanket. If he could lie here all day he would be perfectly content. The last week had been, to say the least, exhausting. Lavender had been wrong about being able to read the details of the Marauder's fight in Diagon Alley in the paper. There had been no word on it.

Angelina Johnson, a sixth year Gryffindor, had even gone so far as to ask Professor Black what had happened. She had lost Gryffindor 20 points and earned a Saturday detention on the spot. Students quickly became reluctant to talk about the subject.

Harry had continued to receive hate filled glares and the occasional threat from the purebloods of the school. Ron Weasley had yet to say anything to him since the night the Champions had been selected. Part of Harry was relieved at this, but the larger part of him was dreading the moment when the red headed boy would finally break his silence. Putting up with Malfoy was trying enough at the moment.

The Slytherin took every opportunity possible to insult Harry or guess what gruesome manner Harry would die in during the Tournament. Seamus and Dean had found this morbidly amusing and currently had Harry being killed by a niffler burrowing into his chest as the odds on favorite. Harry was beginning to question why he enjoyed having the two around.

When the call of nature finally forced Harry to abandon the warmth of his bed, he was surprised to see Dean sitting on the edge of his bed. Crying. Silently, Dean was crying.

"Oh, shit. I didn't realize you were awake, Harry," he said quickly while wiping the back of his hands across his face.

"You alright there, Dean?" Harry asked carefully. He had lived in the same room with the boy going on four years now and this was the first time he had ever seen him cry. It was slightly disturbing.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm alright. So, hey, you getting ready for that First Task? It's coming up fast." Harry was partly glad the other boy had changed the topic, but also felt badly. Should he press him for what was the matter?

"I'm getting there," he replied. "I'm meeting up with Hermione later on to go over some new spells."

"Good, good. Let me and Seamus know if we can help out at all." Dean paused. "Harry, you know how important this is, don't you? You being in the Tournament." The boy was staring intently at Harry now. His eyes were still red.

"I think so," Harry said softly, "It's just going to be hard, you know?"

"Hard?" Dean echoed. "Of course it's going to be hard, Harry! Our entire lives are going to be hard if you hadn't noticed! We're at the bottom. Once we're out of Hogwarts there is nothing waiting for us. Nothing. You've got it slightly better off. You're technically halfblood. Me? Hermione? Mudbloods. I could get an Outstanding on every assignment and exam from now until the day I graduate and any employer would still gladly employ Weasley or Neville over me. And I didn't even get a choice in this!" Tears were starting to leak out of the boy's eyes again.

"Did I ever tell you how I came into the Wizarding World, Harry?"

"No," Harry answered quietly, "You didn't." Dean was quiet after Harry said that, and for a moment he thought the boy wasn't going to tell him. Then, slowly, Dean started to talk.

"I was seven years old. It was my mum's birthday and she was unwrapping her presents. Just me, her, and dad. I'd made her a card during art class at school, even back than I loved to draw. She loved it I remember. She read it then pulled me in for a big hug and kissed me on the forehead. I was so happy she liked it. This feeling of happiness just surged through me and well...you know how it's usually strong emotions that cause accidental magic?" He took a deep breath. He was shaking slightly, but his eyes were still firmly locked onto Harry's.

"It wasn't much. The light bulb in the lamp next to us cracked down the middle and broke. We thought it was just a freak accident. Scared me when it happened. But then a few minutes later there were these pops coming from outside. Someone was knocking on the door and my dad went to open it. A red jet of light knocked him to the ground. Stunner I know now. The first time Dolohov demonstrated one in class I nearly broke down. I was terrified. My mum was still holding me and the card, just screaming her lungs out, screaming for my dad. The wizards came into the room and Stunned her too. They yanked me away from her and pulled me outside where we Disapparated.

"They took me to the orphanage, of course you know about that since you guys adopted Hermione, but once we got there they told me I was a wizard and that I belonged with my own kind. Didn't find out until later that my own kind thought I was dirt. I lived at that orphanage for three years before someone adopted me. It was awful. They had us sit through these lectures all about how wizards are superior to muggles. I mean, they never even let me say goodbye! And the family I live with now, Merlin, they don't even like me. I go home for the summer and I'm a ghost. They adopted me because Voldemort puts pressure on people to take in muggleborns. Doesn't want the government to keep having to pay for us, does he?

"The worst part though, was when they told me they wiped my parents memory of me. They don't even know I existed. So today...Today is my mum's birthday. I don't know how old she is. I don't even know if she's alive. She doesn't know I exist. And that, all of that, is Voldemort's fault. Because these goddamn purebloods think they are better than the rest of us. But you, Harry, you have a chance to prove them wrong. You can show them that you don't have to be pureblood to be the best! You can show them how wrong they are! Yes, it'll be hard! But, Harry, this is the only chance we'll have. You've got to show them wrong, Harry. You have to win." Dean stared at him silently for a moment before standing up and putting his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"You can do it, Harry. I know you can." Then he left a numb Harry alone in the room with his thoughts.

* * *

"I can't do it, Hermione, it's just insane. I'm only fourteen!" Harry yelled in frustration. "How am I supposed to compete with those guys? And Dean doesn't just expect me to compete, he expects me to win!" The two were alone together in an abandoned classroom, alternating firing spells at a dummy at the end of the room. Harry's last Stunner had somehow burned the dummy to ashes which had led Hermione to ask what was wrong.

"It isn't fair, Harry, I know that. We all know that," she answered. "But, Harry, Dean is right. Life isn't fair. Just look at me. You and your mom took me in and gave me a great home. But you shouldn't have had to. I should be living with my parents right now. And you, you shouldn't be Harry Evans in the first place! You're Harry Potter! You should have a dad!"

"I know, Hermione, I know that!" he shouted back, "When mine name came out of that Goblet though my thoughts were on how to survive this Tournament. Now though, everyone is expecting me to win the damn thing as some sort of 'fuck you' to Voldemort and the purebloods! Believe me, I want to, I want nothing more than that," he cut her off when it appeared she was about to interrupt him, "But just how the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"Harry," she said calmly, "I have known you since we were eight. You are my best friend in this world. Believe me when I tell you that you are an exceptional wizard. They may know more advanced spells than you right now, but you are just as smart as them and maybe even more powerful than them. If there is anyone in this castle who can beat the purebloods at their own game, it's you."

Harry sat on a nearby desk and buried his face in his hands. It was just so much pressure. He had expected Hermione to alleviate some of it, but instead she had piled on more. He couldn't blame her. He knew she had gone through horrors just like Dean had. Hell, any muggleborn in the school had gone through some horrible things to get where they were today. How was he supposed to do anything about that though? It was just a Tournament, a glorified game. How could that possibly change anything?

"I think I just need some private time right now, ok, Hermione?" he whispered. She gave him a gentle squeeze on the shoulder before exiting the classroom. Why was he so anxious about this Tournament? Had it really only been a week ago he had laid in his bed dreaming of the glory that would come of winning it? His dream had turned into a living nightmare. He took a deep breath and left the classroom. Maybe a walk in the fresh air will clear my mind, he thought.

He hadn't made it ten feet past the classroom door when they found him.

"Evans! Just who we were looking for. How's it going there, Champion?" Harry had rounded the corner and walked smack into the middle of a group of older students. A mix of Ravenclaws and Slytherins based on their robes. Adrian Pucey of Slytherin was the one talking. Harry eyed the group warily. The only ones he recognized he knew to be pureblood. In the back of the group was none other that Edward Rosier. A nasty smirk played across his lips.

"No answer there, Evans? I knew you were dumb with a Mudblood bitch for a mum and all, but I figured you would at least be able to talk," Pucey was grinning as his friends laughed heartily at his comment. Harry clenched his hands into fists. He was out numbered. Any attempt to retaliate would be met with a sound thrashing he was sure.

"Now, come on, Evans," Pucey continued, "You may be an idiot but you are technically representing Hogwarts. We can't have you appear to be such a waste of life. You are a halfblood after all. There is some respectable blood in those veins, though you'd have to scrub away all the filth to find any."

"You really are no fun, do you know that?" Pucey frowned. Harry's fist remain clenched and he looked around for the slightest chance of escape. He couldn't find one though. They had surrounded him. "Well, guess I may as well get some practice in while I've got a willing target. I heard from Malfoy that the Cruciatus makes you sing real pretty. Should we see if he's right?"

"What is going on here?" A female voice interrupted Pucey just as he was about to slash his wand down. With a look of great annoyance he turned to see who was addressing him. As the group of purebloods turned Harry could see the Beauxbatons' Champion Fleur standing with her arms crossed, glaring at the group. Behind her stood several of her classmates.

"Well would you look at that," Pucey shook his head, "The Veela whore saves the Mudblood Champion. You just can't make this stuff up."

"Leave," the French girl hissed, "Right now." Pucey opened his mouth to retort but stopped short when Rosier placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Just a few words exchanged among fellow students, Ms. Delacour, I assure you," he spoke gracefully. "You should control your temper better, birds are confined to the Owlery." Harry saw her face flush red. If she really was a Veela, Rosier had essentially just called her an animal. She had no chance to respond, however, as Rosier was already walking away down the hallway with his friends at his back. Fleur turned and spoke a few words in rapid French to her classmates and they abruptly turned and left as well. The two Champions stood alone.

"That is not the first time I have come across you being accosted," she stated.

"If you hang around long enough it won't be the last either. You didn't have to interrupt them. Now you're just on their radar as well," Harry responded. In truth he was glad she had come along; he did not want to feel another Cruciatus for as long as he lived. But this was the same girl who had called him a little boy. Was she any better?

"I do not doubt you. I do not know how you do it...may I call you Harry?" He gave a nod. "In France, I have many boys drool over me. It is unflattering, but much better than the treatment I have received here. To be slandered in a national newspaper! If I were not selected as Champion I would have left this wretched place already."

"I'd say you get used to it," Harry said, "But you really don't. I'm grateful you came along and chased them off, really I am. But is there something this 'little boy' can help you with?" He knew he was being rude, but he couldn't help it. He was pissed off, his nerves were shot, and now this girl was going on like she knew him. He just wanted to get away from everyone.

"No. I suppose not." She paused. "I apologize if I offended you when you were selected. Emotions were running high and it was unexpected. I hope you will give Hogwarts a worthy Champion. It certainly needs one." She began to walk away and Harry felt the guilt at being rude to her gnawing at him.

"Fleur," he called after her. She stopped and glanced back. "Thank you." She held his gaze for another moment before curtly nodding and walking away. Harry stood in the hallway and watched her go. An apology. When was the last time someone who had insulted him had actually apologized? Discounting banter with his friends, he couldn't recall. The thought of Malfoy or Dolohov apologizing for the actions was too ludicrous to imagine. The French Champion might be alright after all.

Rosier. He didn't deserve to be a Champion. Until Fleur had come along he was going to watch while his friends cursed Harry. He had shown that first night that he wasn't here to play nicely. His avian remark to Fleur showed it wasn't just Harry he held in contempt. If Harry was going to compete in this Tournament, he needed to knock Rosier down. Maybe he didn't have to win the whole thing after all. If he could keep that prick from winning the damn thing, even finish ahead of him in the standings maybe, it would all be worth it. There was only one way that was going to happen though.

He took off at a run, flying down stairs and around corners until finally he came to a wooden door. Without bothering to knock he opened the door and marched across the room. Professor Black opened the door to his office after five hard knocks.

"Mr. Evans. Can I help you with something?"

"I want you to train me," Harry announced.

"Well, it's about time. I've been waiting for you. Come in." Harry looked into the man's dark eyes and for a brief moment his mind wondered if he was about to step into the office of his father's murderer before he banished the thought from his head. He needed help to beat Rosier. Professor Black was his only choice.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

"More! You need to pour more magic into it, Evans!" Professor Black shouted. Harry looked at the man exasperatedly and gestured to the target.

"I blew the thing in half," he argued. Indeed he had; standing thirty feel away from the two was a Conjured brick wall the Professor had been having Harry throw Reducto curses at.

"Not good enough," Black stated. "The other Champions are far more educated than you, which means they will be able to use fancy spells and tricks in order to complete the Tasks. You, on the other, hand have a firm grasp on the basics, but not the advanced knowledge they have. Which is why you are lucky to be so powerful. If you can simply harness your power you will be able to use brute force to power your way through some of these Tasks. It won't be pretty and you won't win any style points, but you'll complete them. If you do as I say." He cast a Reparo on the wall and stood back. "Eviscerate the wall. You have the ability."

Harry took a deep breath and stared down the wall. He imagined it destroyed in his mind. He was exhausted. They had been practicing for an hour now. It had been two weeks since he had first asked Professor Black for help. He had been worn down ever since; the man insisted worked him harder than he had ever worked before. Practicing every spell he knew and even learning some new ones. The Professor insisted everything be over powered. His one advantage on the other competitors, he said. Gathering up all of the energy he could muster, Harry thrust his wand forward.

"_Reducto_!" The spell slammed into the brick wall and nearly the entire thing crumbled into dust. Roughly a quarter of the wall at the bottom was still intact, however.

"We're done for tonight," Black announced. "You are tired. Go rest. We will meet again on Thursday, at which point I will expect you to destroy the entire wall." Harry nodded his head and quickly left the room, eager to have a chance to rest.

Black had them train in an old dungeon in the depths of the castle. It had been creepy at first, but after two weeks of practicing there Harry had grown used to it. He had never imagined that the castle's dungeon system was so complex. It was a maze down there. He made his way back to the Gryffindor common room without incident; it was Sunday night and nearly curfew.

He wasn't surprised to see Hermione waiting for him in the common room with Dean and Seamus. The two boys had quickly become his biggest supporters in the Tournament and had taken to helping Harry practice spells in between classes. Between their help, Professor Black's lessons, and actual classes it was no wonder Harry was so exhausted. He would have to back off in the coming weeks before the First Task he realized, or he would be too worn out to perform his best.

"Where have you been all this time?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Found an empty classroom and was practicing my Conjuring," Harry lied. Professor Black had been adamant Harry tell no one of their lessons or they would come to an abrupt end. He felt bad lying to Hermione but he really needed the help. She seemed to take his lie at face value though.

"Merlin, Harry, I don't know how you do it," Dean said, "If I were casting as often as you were these days I think I'd drop dead."

"Ah, he wasn't Conjuring," Seamus chimed in. Harry looked at him, suddenly alarmed. "He was out snogging some TriWizard groupies, weren't you, Harry?" The boy gave him a wink. Harry relaxed and forced out a laugh.

"If only, Seamus. Maybe after this First Task I'll have some time for that. If such a girl exists that is."

"They exist alright," Seamus chuckled.

"Moving on," Hermione interrupted with a pointed look a Seamus, "Do you have any idea what the First Task could be? It's just so hard to prepare for it blindly."

"Wish I knew, Hermione," Harry answered. "But they aren't telling. I figure it's best to just keep practicing everything I can and hope something happens to be useful."

"Maybe you'll have to break into Gringotts," Dean joked.

"Or track down the Marauders! First Champion to capture one wins!" Seamus laughed.

"Don't be stupid," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Has anyone heard anything else about them though? It's weird they would do something as high profile as break into Gringotts and then just disappear again."

"Is it though?" Harry asked. "Yeah, it was a lot crazier than anything they've done before, but they've never been a huge threat really. They're just sort of there, I guess."

"Maybe they have done something else," Dean said. "Think about it. The only reason we know about Gringotts is that Lavender heard about it through the rumor mill. I wasn't in the paper or on the wireless. Maybe they have been doing more only we just don't hear about it."

He had a point Harry conceded. Voldemort could very well be covering up any events that would embarrass him or Britain, especially during the TriWizard Tournament when all eyes were on them. It certainly seemed possible.

"Guess we just won't know unless something big happens," Harry finally said. "Or when they get caught by Voldemort. You know that will make front page news."

"Did you guys hear about Ron?" Seamus asked suddenly.

"What about him?" Hermione replied. "Did he figure out how to spell his own name?"

"Nothing as miraculous as that," the Irish boy assured her, "No, earlier today Katie Bell was down at the Quidditch Pitch getting in some practice. There may not be a season this year, but that girl is dedicated. Anyway, she's flying around when Weasley shows up and starts flying too. Not a big deal, right? Big pitch plenty of room for two people. But then he challenges her to a race." Harry let out a sharp laugh. Katie was a Gryffindor Chaser. She could fly rings around nearly anyone in the House, Ron included.

"Ron apparently got a new broom and was feeling a little full of himself, I guess. Katie accepts and they do a lap around the pitch. She smokes him, of course. Not even close. Weasley didn't like that much though. Katie was waiting for him at the finish line and he just rams into her. Knocked her clean off her broom twenty feet in the air. She wound up in the hospital wing with a broken arm and is lucky it wasn't worse."

Harry was stunned. Ron had been a bully for years and this year seemed to have his attention focused on Harry. But attacking Katie? She was an older student, who despite being a Mudblood, was fairly popular due to her status on the Quidditch team. A team that Ron's older twin brothers happened to play on.

"Is she ok?" Hermione inquired. "That's a long way to fall."

"Yeah, she's alright now," Seamus said, "Pomfrey fixed her up in no time and sent her on her way."

"What about Ron?" Harry asked. "Anything happen to him?" Seamus gave Harry a weird look.

"To Ron? Of course not. Dolohov was there when they brought Katie into the hospital wing. Laughed it off and said, and I quote 'Maybe she got cut and some mud dripped into her eye'". The boy shook his head with disgust. "Dolohov's the worst by far. I can't stand him."

"So you were there for all of this?" Harry questioned.

"Yeah, I saw everything from the end of the race. I was the one that brought Katie to the hospital wing."

"Someone needs to teach that ass a lesson," Dean muttered. At that moment the ass in question entered from the portrait hole talking loudly with an older student, Cormac McLaggen.

"He really is a piece of work," Harry agreed. "He's getting worse with every day it seems like." Ron passed by their group without even glancing at them before heading up to his dorm room.

"Maybe you'll get lucky and the First Task will be seeing who can think of the most painful way to shut Weasley up," Seamus suggested which brought a laugh from Dean.

"Would be nice," Harry commented with a worried glance at Hermione, "Just keep an eye on Ron, alright?"

* * *

The only benefit to the Weighing of the Wands ceremony was that it took place during Harry's Dark Arts class. Although, based on the look Rosier gave him when he entered the room there might be more of a chance of him being cursed here.

The four Champions and their Headmaster's were all inside a classroom with a reporter, a cameraman, and the strange old man Ollivander who Harry had bought his wand from four years ago. Harry felt decidedly alone in the room. Professor Snape was talking to Ollivander while Rosier was off in a corner of the room with the reporter. Krum and Karkaroff were in the middle of their own conversation. And Fleur, who Harry had hoped he might receive some kind of greeting from, had yet to look his way and was engaging in a rapid exchange of French with Madame Maxime. Finally, Snape broke away from Ollivander and turned to face the Champions.

"Everyone, take a seat. We will begin with Mr. Ollivander inspecting each of the competitors' wands," Snape's eyes lingered on Harry for a moment and gave a slight sneer. "Once he is done Ms. Skeeter has informed me that she will be interviewing each of you in turn. I see you have already gotten to Mr. Rosier. Once you have been interviewed you are free to go."

"And photographed!" Skeeter chimed in from the back of the room. "We must have photos for the article, Headmaster." Snape eyed her before giving a slight nod of his head and taking a seat. Ollivander stepped forward.

"Ladies first, my dear," he said extending his hand to Fleur. Harry let his thoughts wonder. Skeeter? Rita Skeeter? She had been the one to write the article the day after the selections. He felt his anger flare up as he recalled the dismissive way she had talked about him. He did not want to talk to her, unlike Rosier who had practically been attached to her hip since she entered the room.

Krum was now having his wand inspected by Ollivander. Harry looked down at his own wand and wondered what exactly the point of this was. Why did Ollivander even need to inspect their wands? Must be some kind of tradition, he decided. That and an excuse to have the Champions interact with the press. Krum sat down and Rosier brought his wand to the old man.

"Ah, now this is one of mine, isn't it?" he looked down at the wand with admiration. Rosier seemed reluctant to hand it over. "Eleven inches, made of ash and the fang of a Runespoor. A wand very adept at curses, to be sure." Ollivander gave the wand a flick and nearby chair collapsed. He returned the wand to Rosier with a smile. "And that leaves just you, Mr. Evans."

Ignoring the eyes that turned to face him, Harry stood up and presented his wand to Ollivander. The old man took it somewhat reverently from him and ran his hand along the wand's length.

"Another creation of mine. 10 and a half inches, aspen. Not a common wood. Dragon heart string. It appears to be in excellent condition, Mr. Evans," Ollivander announced. He swished the wand and a bouquet of lilies erupted from the tip. Harry grinned at his choice of flower. He handed the wand back to Harry and gifted the lilies to a rather flustered looking Madame Maxime before exiting the room.

"Strange fellow," Karkaroff commented quietly.

"Interviews!" Skeeter shouted from behind them causing Harry to jump slightly. He had forgotten she was there. Rosier smirked at Harry's reaction before crossing the room to converse with Professor Snape. Rita was currently talking to a slightly annoyed looking Fleur. He wondered what kind of questions she would ask him. Or if she would even ask any at all. She hadn't seemed to think he was worth much thought on during her first article.

Harry noticed Krum staring him down out of the corner of his eye and turned to face him.

"Hello?" he said awkwardly. The Bulgarian Quidditch star continued to stare him down. "Rosier is competition," Krum said, "But you, Evans, vill be fun to crush." He then turned to face Rita Skeeter who had finished with Fleur. Harry was seething on the inside. Krum thought he would crush him, did he? The arrogant bastard. Beating Rosier might have been his main goal, but right now Harry wanted nothing more than to punch Krum right in his smug face. He continued to sit there in anger until Rita Skeeter finished with the Durmstrang Champion and turner her attention to him.

"Last, and possibly least I'm afraid, Harry Evans. How are you, Harry? Rita Skeeter?" She spoke so quickly he didn't have time to get in a word but felt his anger flare up again.

"So, Harry. Truth be told no one expected you to be in this Tournament and there isn't much hope of you doing well going in to it. Tell me, and my readers, what do you think about being entered in the Tournament?" She stared at him expectantly.

Harry saw Krum off to his right talking with his Headmaster, laughing about something. Ahead of him he noticed Rosier staring at him. He smirked at Harry and silently mouthed the word 'Dirt'. Harry had seen enough, he looked back at Rita and forced a smile.

* * *

_They Are Ready_

_by Rita Skeeter_

_The Weighing of the Wands Ceremony was the first time since their selection that all four Champions were formally brought together. The excitement of having their names drawn for them Goblet has died down and been replaced with nerves for the upcoming Tasks and determination to represent their schools well. The Champions have been practicing for weeks not in anticipation of the First Task, the content of which we will not know until the day of the Task. Each Champion seemed to have different thoughts when asked about the Tournament._

_"I will do the best I can to represent my school and country," said Fleur Delacour, age 17. "I have been working harder than ever in preparation for the upcoming challenges. I believe that my competitors will battle fiercely, but I also know that I can compete with anyone." The French Champion appears ready to get the Tasks underway, but perhaps did not seem as confident as some of our other Champions._

_"I am no stranger to competition or pressure," Viktor Krum, 17, proclaimed. Indeed, it was not long ago we saw Krum lead Bulgaria to the Quidditch World Cup and defeat Ireland in the Finals in front of over 100,000 fans. "I will be very disappointed if I do not win this. One of my competitors is what, twelve or thirteen?" Harsh words by the Durmstrang Champion directed towards Hogwarts' Harry Evans. Hogwarts' true Champion had a more refined look on the competition._

_"Everyone in the Tournament is here for a reason," Evan Rosier, 17, noted. "We have yet to see each other compete so other than knowing that Viktor will win any Quidditch related Tasks, it will be very exciting to see each other's strengths on display in the First Task. I feel confident that I am up to the challenge of competing with, and beating, any of the other Champions. Hogwarts provides the best education in the world. As its Champion, I will be out to show everyone just how good we are." Loyalty to his school and country as seen here matched with his prowess with a wand, show exactly why Evan Rosier was chosen as the Hogwarts Champion._

_The final, and often overlooked Champion in the Tournament was far more succinct in his thoughts when asked about the Tournament._

_"I'm going to win," Harry Evans stated confidently. Brash words from our most inexperienced Champion. We will have to wait and see if his bold prediction comes to pass, or if far more likely, he lives (or doesn't) to regret those words. The Champions are ready. The fans are eager. Let's get this Tournament underway, shall we?_

* * *

"I'm going to win? You actually told Rita Skeeter you are going to win?" Hermione asked incredulously. Harry took a sip of his pumpkin juice and simply shrugged his shoulders.

"I love this guy!" Seamus shouted. Several heads in the Great Hall turned in their direction. "That was perfect! Merlin, saying something like that you must have to walk around with a permanent Featherweight Charm with stones that big!" Harry grinned at Seamus's exclamation while Hermione looked thoroughly scandalized.

"Seamus!" she scolded. "Watch you mouth!" But Seamus ignored her and threw his arm around Harry.

"This is the Champion I've been waiting to see these past few weeks! Not the whiny, woe is me Harry, but the fuck all comers I'm winning this damn Tournament Harry Evans! I could not love you anymore right now!"

"Tone it down, Seamus," Dean laughed, "You're going to start giving people the wrong impression." Seamus quickly dropped his arm from around Harry, but his smile didn't falter for a second. "It was pretty crazy of you to say this, Harry," Dean continued. "Why'd you do it?" Harry was about to answer when a voice beat him to it.

"Because he's a dumb piece of shit, that's why." Harry turned to see Ron Weasley standing behind him, sneer on his face. "Think you're going to win, Evans? You don's stand a chance. I can't wait to see the other Champions destroy you. I bet you can't even beat the French girl."

"I bet you couldn't even talk to a girl, Weasley, so fuck off!" Seamus replied happily. The table erupted in laughter and Ron's face flushed bright red. Seamus may have said it, but Ron's eyes were locked on Harry.

"You better watch yourself, Evans." Briefly his eyes flickered over Harry's head and he followed his gaze towards Hermione. He whipped around to tell Ron to get the hell out of there, but the red headed boy was already walking away. Seamus may have loved the article, but he had a feeling many of the purebloods would have the same reaction to it Ron did.

Sure enough, when he glanced around the Hall he detected several glares coming his way from all over. Even from the Gryffindor table. The last place he looked was towards the Head Table where he quickly noticed Professor Snape staring at him. The Professor narrowed his eyes when they made eye contact and looked away. Harry looked further down the table, but no other professors seemed to be paying any attention to him. Until he reached the end of the table that is. Leaning back in his chair, Professor Black made eye contact with Harry and raised a single eyebrow. Harry gave another shrug in response. It must have been the proper reaction because the professor's face lit up in a huge smile that quickly disappeared when Professor Shaw leaned over to say something.

"Harry?" He turned to see Hermione looking at him questioningly. "Why did Professor Black just smile at you?" Harry panicked.

"Maybe he thinks Ron's a tosser too and was glad we chased him off," he answered with a laugh. Hermione nodded but seemed to be watching him carefully. If he wasn't careful she'd start putting some pieces together. It had been worth it though. That was the first time he had actually seen the man smile.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I do not own Harry Potter. I am spoiling you guys a little with the rapid updates lately. I update as my schedule allows. I have had a few people ask me about being a Beta. I'll admit, I do need one. If you are interested please message me.

* * *

The morning of the First Task found Harry wide awake in his bed. He hadn't been able to sleep well during the night. His thoughts raced back forth as he tried to imagine what was waiting for him outside the castle walls in a few hours. His training sessions with Professor Black over the course of the past month had left him feeling confident in his abilities. Only the week before he had finally managed to destroy the brick wall completely enough to satisfy the man.

That wasn't all they had practiced though, not by a long shot. He had Conjured and Transfigured until his arm ached from going through the wand motions. The professor had made him Charm various objects in the room to teach him to maintain one spell while casting another. Harry had gotten a kick out of making a desk dance while the cauldron next to it spun like a top before Transfiguring them into a half completed horse and a bizarre looking turtle. And the whole while they had continued dancing and spinning.

He may not have the most fine tuned casting, but he definitely had power behind it. He cast a quick Charm to check the time and then rolled out of bed to head down to breakfast. His stomach was already a bundle of nerves but he knew he needed to get some food down to prepare for whatever it was he would have to do.

Dean and Seamus heard him moving around and rather quickly joined him in getting ready.

"How you feeling there, Harry?" Seamus asked with a grin, "Ready to kick some Champion ass out there today?" Dean reached over and slapped Harry on the back when he didn't answer.

"Relax," he said, "You've got a few hours before you have to do anything. Let's go grab some breakfast, I'm sure Hermione is already in the common room waiting for us."

Sure enough Hermione was sitting on a couch in the common room reading a large and old looking book when they came down.

"Finally," she said and snapped her book shut. "I was just about ready to come in there and wake you up. I've been awake for hours; I couldn't sleep last night." She marched up to the boys and abruptly gave Harry a tight hug.

"You're going to do great," she said. Just like that Harry felt some of the tension loosen inside of him.

"Of course he is!" Seamus exclaimed. "Don't you remember the article? He's going to win! He's going to crush those fuckers!" Harry laughed along with the rest of them as they walked down to the Great Hall listening to Seamus explain in detail just how badly Harry was going to 'crush those fuckers.'

By the time they had reached the Great Hall he was feeling confident once again and even trading a few jokes with the others. And then, as they approached the Gryffindor table, people began to call out to him.

"Good luck, Evans!"

"You've got this, Harry!"

"What do you think, Evans, going to die or just put in a coma?"

"Rosier's the real Hogwarts Champion!"

And so it went. The good luck wishes and the insults flying fast and furious. A few of the insults even caused Seamus to do a double take.

"Is that even possible?" Seamus asked in awe. "The broomstick would actually come out of your mouth?" So it was no surprise to the others in the group when Harry suggested simply grabbing some food to go and escaping the masses.

"At least you have some supporters, Harry," Dean pointed out as they walked outside.

"Supporters? That's just a bunch of mudbloods, Thomas." Harry turned to see Ron leaning against the wall behind them.

"Think you're ready, Evans?" he asked mockingly. "I bet you break down and cry when it starts."

"Don't you have somewhere better to be Weasley?" Harry asked tiredly. "I'm starting to think you just follow us around waiting to interrupt us."

"Keep dreaming, Evans. There's who I was waiting for right there," he nodded his head in the direction behind Harry and his friends. "The true Hogwarts Champion."

Coming up from the dungeons, with nearly the entire Slytherin House behind him, was Edward Rosier.

"Good luck today, Rosier," Ron called across the hall, "Bring us home a Hogwarts victory, eh?"

Rosier appeared not to hear the boy and instead focused his attention on Harry.

"Evans," he said cooly. "I hope you remember what I told you the night you were selected. Because starting today, everyone will realize just how worthless you are."

"You know," Harry snapped, "This is all getting a little repetitive, don't you think? You show up with all your friends, out number and insult me? It's really kind of played out at this point. So how about this?" He took a few quick steps forward and didn't stop until he was right in Rosier's face. "How about you shut your fucking mouth and we settle this during the Task?"

Angry shouts and jeers erupted from the Slytherins behind Rosier, but he simply fixed Harry with a cold look.

"I think you are the one about to find out how cheap words are, Evans. It's a dangerous game we're about to play. And you? You're just a 'leetle boy' after all," he mocked, a reminder of the Beauxbatons Champion first thought of him. "I would say good luck, but to be honest I really hope you die out there."

Rosier brushed past Harry and led the Slytherins into the Great Hall.

"Seamus, Dean," Harry said, "I need to talk to Hermione. See you guys after the Task?"

"Yeah, of course," Dean answered. "Good luck, mate. We'll save you a seat in the stands, Hermione. If they have them. We really need to find out where the hell we're going."

"Harry," Seamus said solemnly, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "No matter what happens out there, we're proud of you. But, if you lose to that Slytherin shit head I'm going to murder you in your sleep. Good luck, champ."

Harry rolled his eyes as the two boys departed.

"What's up, Harry? Are you ok?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, actually I'm feeling pretty good right now surprisingly enough. I just needed some time away from everyone."

"You really are ready, then?" she questioned him. She looked scared.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he affirmed. "Hermione, I just wanted to say...I mean, this Tournament is really dangerous. If anything should happen to me out there I just want you to know you're the best sister I could have ever asked for."

For the second time that morning Harry found himself crushed in a Hermione hug.

"I love you, Harry. And you are going to do great, so no more talking like that!" She let go of him and the two of them stood alone in the hallway. "I have to tell you though, I think I agree with Seamus. You really need to crush Rosier out there."

Harry grinned.

"I'll do my best."

"Mr. Evans," a voice called out through the hall, "It is time to report to the Champions tent." Harry turned to see Professor Black walking towards him.

"Er, ok. Where is that?"

"Follow me, Evans." With a shrug Harry said goodbye to Hermione and followed his professor outside the castle. The heavy doors banged shut behind them. The grounds were empty save for the Beauxbatons carriage.

"There has been a large arena built on the path to Hogsmeade for the First Task," Black explained as the walked. "The students will be headed there shortly along with other spectators, but you and the other Champions must first to report to the Champions tent for a briefing on what you will face."

"Do you know what I'll face, Professor?" Harry asked curiously. The man seemed willing to help him. Maybe he knew a thing or two.

"Yes, I do. But I will not be telling you," he smirked. Well, bugger that idea, Harry thought. The two walked in silence down the road until Harry saw a large red and white striped tent.

"You will wait in there for the remaining competitors to show up."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry replied and began to walk away from the man.

"Harry." He stopped short. Professor Black had never used his first name before.

"Sir?"

"Good luck. You're father would be extremely proud of you right now." With that the professor turned in his heel and walked back towards the castle. Harry's focus on the task wavered. His father? So Professor Black had known his father! He had half a mind to chase the man down and demand some answers when he saw who else was coming from that direction. Passing by Black were none other than Professor Snape and Rosier. Harry let out a frustrated groan and spun around. He entered the tent and realized he was not alone.

On the opposite side of then Viktor Krum sat on a chair looking very distracted. Standing next to him was Karkaroff talking to none other than Lord Voldemort. Harry hadn't realized the man would be here for the Task. He should of he assumed. It was an international competition and he was the leader of the host nation. And what had he said the last time he had seen him? 'I'll be watching." Apparently he would be watching very closely.

Snape and Rosier entered the tent and passed Harry without a word. Soon after them Madame Maxime walked in followed by Fleur. He made eye contact with the French Champion and gave her a slight nod of his head. She gave him a slight smile in response, but walked right on past.

"Champions, gather round," Snape called out. "It is time for you to learn the nature of the First Task. My Lord, would you like to do the honors?" he asked once the Champions had come near. Harry could feel the power radiating off Voldemort standing so close to him. The air seemed more electric near him. The man certainly commanded attention.

"Thank you, Severus," he said. "Champions, your first Task will require you to demonstrate innovativeness and bravery. Your fellow students are currently filling a stadium just beyond this tent where you will soon be headed. One at a time, you will be escorted into the stadium. Once within you will find four chests in the corners of the arena. They will each have a guard watching over them." He paused and eyed the Champions carefully.

"Inside the chests are three objects that you have to recover, the crest of each of the schools. Not every chest has a crest. They may be spread out in three different chests or all hidden in one. Summoning and Revelio Charms will not work in this Task. Gathering all three crests will provide you a hint at the next Task. Fail to collect all three and you will enter the next Task blindly. You will be judged on your performance. The Headmasters, as well as myself, will be your judges. There will be no favoritism." Harry could have imagined it, but he thought Karkaroff may have flushed at that.

"I feel it fair to warn you that killing any of the guards will cost you points. You will have thirty minutes to retrieve the crests. Beyond that, you are on your own. Severus, you have the slips?" The man nodded and produced four strips of parchment. "On these slips are the numbers one through four. Whichever number you draw is the order you will go in. Ladies first, Ms. Delacour."

Snape offered the slips to Fleur, his face emotionless. Fleur on the other hand had gone pale. Still, her hand did not shake one bit as she reached out and plucked a paper from Snape's hand.

"Three."

"Third it is," Snape agreed. "Mr. Krum, as our other guest, you will draw next."

Krum reached out and grabbed a paper. He held it up for all to see the number one printed on it. Snape turned and offered the the remaining slips to Rosier who drew the number two.

"Which leaves Mr. Evans as our last Champion," Voldemort announced. "Mr. Krum, someone will be along to bring you in shortly." Voldemort strode past the Champions and out of the tent, the Heads of school on his heels.

Shockingly, there was no trash talking among the Champions when they left. Harry wondered to the other side of the tent to think and the other three went there separate ways. Less than a minute later a Ministry wizard summoned Krum out of the tent.

Harry felt a strange envy towards him. At least he was about to find out what he was facing. Harry would have to wait until the very end to finally discover what he would be asked to fight. Three crests in four chests. They could all be in one or all in different ones. He would have to be fast in beating the guards around each chest. He hoped he would be lucky enough to find all three in the first chest he opened.

He could hear the distant roar of the crowd, but could not make out what was going on. His mind went blank on him for which he was glad. Better an empty mind than imagining all kinds of monsters that could be waiting inside the arena. He began taking deep slow breaths in order to keep himself calm.

Rosier remained standing on the opposite side of the tent, arms held behind his back and staring straight ahead. He appeared ready. Fleur, meanwhile, was sitting with her back to the tent and silently practicing wand movements. Her eyes were closed. Time seemed to drag on, but eventually the Ministry official reappeared and summoned Rosier from the tent.

The Slytherin spared one withering glance at Harry before he vanished from the tent. Nervous energy began to fill his gut and Harry jumped up and began pacing back and forth. What was in there? What was he about to fight?

"Will you stop that? It is driving me mad." Harry stopped and looked at Fleur.

"Stop that tapping on your leg. It is incredibly annoying," she answered, her eyes still closed.

"Oh. Right, sorry," he muttered. He hadn't even realized he'd been doing it. Nervous habit, he thought. Far sooner than it had taken the Ministry official to come fetch Rosier, he was back again for Fleur. She took a deep breath at the sight of him.

"That was fast," she uttered quietly. She started towards the exit.

"Good luck, Fleur. There's nothing in that arena worse than what was in this tent." She looked at him in surprise but did not answer as she followed the official outside. It was true, he thought though. They had been standing there quietly being given instructions by a mass murderer. How could anything in there be worse than Voldemort? Harry let out a sigh and began pacing again. He just wanted to get out there. The constant dull roar of the crowd was sending shots of adrenaline through his body.

After what seemed like hours the Ministry official came for him.

"Let's go kid," he said. Does he look sad, Harry thought? He left the tent and was instructed to mount a broom behind the official. "Have to blindfold you for this part. I'll take it off when we land. Hold on tight." The man cast a spell and Harry was suddenly blind. He wrapped his arms around the man's waist and felt them lift off into the air.

The news of the stadium grew louder and louder as they flew until it was so loud he couldn't hear himself think. Then they landed. The man helped him off of his broom and he felt him fly away. Why was he still blind? The noise was deafening. Suddenly, his vision was restored.

He almost wished it hadn't been.

He was standing in a large dirt filled square pit, surrounded on all sides by screaming spectators. The terrifying part was in front of him though. To his left was huge three headed dog, barking and snarling. To his right a large troll dragged his club on the ground as it paced back and forth, shooting hate filled looks at the crowd all the while. He turned around and things only got worse.

On one side stood a chimera. Head and body of a lion, a snake where his tail should be, and a goat's head coming out of his body. As Harry watched a burst of flame erupted from the creature. Finally, on the other side stood a creature with the body of a lion, but with a human face. A sphinx. And behind every one of them was a wooden chest. Fuck me, Harry thought.

He looked up at the stand one more time and noticed a large clock counting down. He was already nearly a minute into his allotted time. He needed to get moving. The troll, he decided, was the best target. It may be strong, but it was stupid. And that gave Harry one advantage over it. Bludgeoners could work on it he thought as he approached, he just had to watch out for the club...the club!

With a grin Harry darted forward towards the troll. As he closed in on it he felt a wave of magic pass over him. Glancing back he realized what it was. Wards. The four guardians had wards around them. They couldn't leave their area. Big plus, Harry realized as he formalized his plan, they couldn't all attack at once.

The troll had noticed him running towards him at this point and was eagerly lumbering in Harry's direction, hoping for a chance to get ahold of at least one human. The troll raised his club above his head as he was running and that was when Harry struck.

He dropped to one knee and launched his first spell.

"Incendio!" It may be a first year spell, but the amount of power he poured into it made it deadly. The spell struck the troll's wooden club and it burst into flames in his hands. With a shout the troll dropped the scorching club and let it fall behind him. Seeing an opportunity, Harry quickly summoned the flaming club to him in mid air. The club smashed into the troll's back and sent it tumbling forward. Harry jumped out of the way and began running towards the chest.

He didn't know how long the troll would be gone, but if he could open the chest and grab the crest before it got up he could be behind the wards and safe. Glancing over his shoulder he saw the troll struggling to get up as he reached the chest. There was no lock on it, so Harry simply threw it open and reached inside.

Yes! He'd guessed right by going to the troll first. He ran away from the chest and crossed the wards safely to the other side, Durmstrang crest in hand. Two to go. He dropped the crest in the middle of the arena where he'd started. Better to keep it safe out here than risk dropping it in another zone, he though.

His heart was racing. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. The troll had finally managed to pull itself to its feet and was furious. No time to dwell on that, Harry thought, which guard next? The three headed dog seemed to sense his intention as it was right up against the ward line snarling making it impossible for Harry to cross. Ok sphinx or chimera, he thought, what's it going to be? A second burst of flame erupted from the chimera as he weighed his options. Sphinx it was.

He knew about sphinxes. They'd studied them the year before. It would give him a riddle, he knew. Unlike the other guardians, the sphinx was standing still, watching Harry as he approached.

"Greetings," she said as he neared her. "I will ask you one riddle, no more no less. Answer correctly and you may pass. Answer wrong, and I attack."

Harry took a deep breath. Just pretend it's Hermione asking you a homework question, he thought idly. Sort of the same principle.

"Ok. Can I hear the riddle?"

"Certainly. What is that which goes with a carriage, comes with a carriage, is of no use to a carriage, and yet the carriage cannot go without it?"

Harry stared at the sphinx. What? He would almost rather deal with the troll again. Ok, ok, think, he thought. What comes and goes with a carriage, but the carriage can't go without? Passengers? Carriages carried them everywhere. But horses could pull a carriage without any he realized. The horses? No, that was stupid. It was just so hard to think concentrate on the riddle with the spectators making all of that-

"Noise! The answer is noise!" The sphinx did not say anything for a moment and Harry was preparing to throw the strongest Bludgeoner he could at it when it answered.

"Correct. You may pass."

Letting out a huge sigh of relief, Harry sprinted past the sphinx and ripped open the second chest. Lucky again! He let out an exhilarated laugh as he pulled the Hogwarts crest from the chest and held it high. The crowd screamed, but he couldn't tell if they were cheering or booing. Probably both he figure as he ran out of the sphinx's zone and threw the Hogwarts crest on top of the Durmstrang one. Just Beauxbatons to go. Three headed man eating dog or fire breathing snake/lion/goat?

Harry glanced at the clock. Eight minutes to go. Fire breathing snake/lion/goat it is he decided. He entered this zone more carefully than the last two. The chimera stalked slowly in front of the chest. I need to get it away from there, he thought. Quickly, he shot of a series of Reducto's at the ground near the chimera making it roar in agitation. As the last curse struck the dirt in front of it the lion head let out a much fiercer roar and charged him.

"Shit. Dumb plan." Harry threw a Banisher at the charging creature, but it was only a glancing hit and the beast kept coming. There wasn't much ground left between them and Harry was panicking. He had strayed to far from the warded boundary; he couldn't run away in time. In a desperate move Harry launched an Incarcerous at the chimera's legs.

Miraculously, the ropes tangled themselves up in beasts legs and it crashed to the ground. Harry let out a triumphant yell, but as he did so the snake portion of the chimera shot over its back and struck at Harry.

"Ah!" The snake had struck home with a bite to Harry's forearm. He nearly dropped his wand but quickly brought up his other hand to secure it. The snake's fangs were sunk deep into Harry's arm as he pushed the wand against its scaly skin and cast another Banisher. This one couldn't miss and the snake flew backwards and into the it's legs tangled and the snake injured, Harry thought the beast was nearly neutralized.

Then the blast of fire flew at him. He dropped to the ground and threw a shield up. The fore still managed to singe his face though. It hurt like hell but he didn't think there would but much damage beyond some missing eyebrows. Jumping to his feet, Harry held his shield in place as he ran past the chimera, another blast of flame shooting after him but falling short. He came to the third chest and fell to his knees in front of it, praying for a Beauxbatons crest. It was empty.

"God damn it," he cried. A glance at the clock showed he had just over three minutes. Three minutes to defeat a three headed dog. Suddenly, Harry pictured Rosier in his mind calling him dirt. He recalled the Cruciatus cast on him buy Ron. Remembered how it felt to have Dolohov curse him. He could do this. He could prove them wrong.

A blast of adrenaline shot through his body as he jumped once more to his feet. The chimera had nearly freed itself, but too late. Harry had already crossed the ward and was safely out of the zone. Luckily, the three headed dog had backed off from the edge of the ward where he had been earlier. Less than three minutes now. This needed to be fast. He could feel his body wearing down. He wondered if the snake venom was poisonous. His arm was bleeding profusely. With an effort Harry blocked the pain in his arm from his mind. He could worry about it later. Right now he had to beat this damn dog.

The dog was far bigger than any of the other guardians he had faced in terms of sheer size. The troll may have been taller, but the dog was massive all the way around. The clock was closing in on two minutes and Harry still needed a plan. He couldn't lure the dog out, but what if he could bring something else in? Might as well try, he thought.

He turned back towards the troll's zone and levitated the now charred club. He crossed his fingers as it approached the ward line. It went through! Harry was ecstatic. His control over the club was wavering. He glanced down at his arm and saw it was swelling and turing and turning a strange green color where the snake had bit him. Not good. Ninety seconds left. Making sure he stayed behind the ward line, Harry lined the club up with the angry three headed dog. It seemed to find the club curious as it approached the boundary and examined it with its three heads.

No matter how big they get, Harry though, dogs always love sticks for some reason. He Banished the club right into the dog's heads and immediately started running towards the chest. He heard the dog let out a squeal as the club struck it, but he kept on running. He didn't dare look behind him. Ten feet away from the box, Harry slid down to one leg and crashed into it. He threw the the lid open and thrust his hand inside. He had it! He'd done it!

The ground shook beneath him. Harry realized he was still in the three headed dog's zone and the club hadn't knocked it out. He couldn't out run it this time. There really was no escape. He was in the middle of the zone, growing dizzy from the loss of adrenaline and the bite on his arm, and the dog was closing in. And then, like a gift from Merlin himself, a giant gong sounded. Time had expired.

A group of Ministry rocketed towards him on their brooms and hovered above the three headed dog who had turned its attention from the injured boy on the ground to the flying wizards. What the hell? Were they singing? They were! What was that going to do, Harry wondered as his vision started to fade. Before his world went dark, he saw the massive dog slump over, dead asleep as the wizards continued to sing.

His last thought before he passed out was, you have got to be fucking kidding me.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I do not own Harry Potter.

I want to give a huge thank you to for editing this chapter. He did a phenomenal job and put up with my constant stream of screw ups.

* * *

The day had been far more trying than Voldemort had imagined. His life had become far more stressful with the sudden increase in Marauder activity. While his presence was required at the First Task in order to meet with a number of foreign dignitaries, his mind had been elsewhere. Their sudden resurgence puzzled him. The group had been quiet for months, with only sporadic activity in the last few years. An attack in Diagon Alley was a drastic change in their methods. It made him wonder if they were using the TriWizard Tournament to make their presence known on an international level.

The amount of press the Tournament was receiving was somewhat staggering. The British media, of course, was monitored by members of his staff as usual. He had no control over the foreign media however, and they wrote endless articles on the Tournament. There had been requests from numerous reporters to interview the Hogwarts Champions, and after some consideration and a meeting with the young Rosier, he allowed them to interview the older Champion.

The boy was of a strong pureblood line and the son of one of his most faithful followers. He could be trusted not to tarnish Britain's image in eyes of the foreign media. The boy was gifted in terms of flattery. His father had trained him well and Edward Rosier was projecting the ideal Briton: talented, charismatic, highly intelligent, and pureblood. He had denied the requests of those who wished to interview Harry Evans under the excuse that he was a minor and would need a parent present. It was a convenient excuse for now, but he would have to think of something more permanent soon or else risk Evans telling a reporter of the discrimination he had undoubtedly faced at Hogwarts.

The boy was an unknown, but if Harry's parents were anything to judge by the boy could wind up causing a great deal of trouble. Harry Evans. Son of James and Lily Potter. The two had caused him no end of troubles during the war; James in particular had captured a large number of his Death Eaters. When the news reached him that the man had finally been eliminated he had been ecstatic. Had his followers had their way Potter's wife and son, along with everyone else who had opposed them, would have been executed. The utter fools.

What exactly, he wondered, would be the benefit of exterminating all those who were not pure of blood? They had magic, so they were of some worth, inferior though they may be. After all, Voldemort himself was the son of a muggle and a near squib. But his followers were not aware of that. As far as he knew, that secret had died with Dumbledore. In addition to their magic, halfbloods and mudbloods provided Voldemort with several invaluable services. They were a built in scapegoat; whenever anything went wrong he could simply shift the blame onto them and walk away unscathed. They provided the labor force needed to keep the magical society functioning on a day to day basis. House elves could be used for cooking and cleaning, but people were still needed to work as Healers, Aurors, and a number of jobs purebloods found themselves too proud to hold such as secretaries and shop workers.

The idea of executing all of these people was incredibly foolish. Trample them down and make those who followed him their superiors? Of course. He had even elevated pureblood families that had opposed him such as the Bones and Weasleys into prominence; pureblood was pureblood after all. It had the added benefit of these families swearing allegiance to him. It was an easy choice really, death or an invitation to join the elite. But purebloods made up a small fraction of the Wizarding population. They had the money and the power, but it was the others that kept the society afloat, even if his followers were too dense to see it. His views were not known only to those in Britain, however, which had caused some difficulties in forging ties with other governments. Some of the countries in eastern Europe, and Russia most notably, had been supportive of his views, but most had frowned upon the discrimination that became common place in Britain upon his victory.

That was all changing with young Harry Evans. Oh, there was certainly some irony in the fact, he knew. Harry Evans, the son of one of his most dangerous opponents, was soothing over international relations with his participation in the Tournament. The prime ministers in several countries on the continent had warmed greatly towards Britain when they discovered that one of Hogwart's Champions was not only a halfblood, but the son of James Potter. The boy's name coming out of the Goblet had been a shock even to him, but he had quickly seen how he could turn the situation to his advantage. By having a halfblood as a Champion of Britain, outsiders would begin to question if the rumors of discrimination were true.

After all, how could a society that was reportedly so pro pureblood support a halfblood Champion? In all honesty, they did not. Or at least the purebloods did not. It was irrelevant; all that mattered was perception. If outsiders perceived Britain to be a place of equality, at least enough to cast doubt on the matter, it would make his dealings with other governments far easier.

There was another benefit as well. Harry Evans was only a fourth year while Rosier was a seventh year. Talented though Evans had proven to be, it seemed highly unlikely that he would defeat the older boy. It certainly didn't help that the judges included himself and two former Death Eaters. The Tournament would show the outside world that Britain did not discriminate halfbloods while at the same time showing a pureblood defeat a halfblood in a fair competition. It would reinforce the status quo: Purebloods were superior. The mudbloods could have their Champion during the Tournament and they would be crushed when he failed and reaffirmed what they were afraid of: that they were inferior.

The situation could not work out better. The only question mark in it was the question of how the boy had been entered in the first place. Voldemort had done his best to find out, but there had been no results in the investigation. No one had seen anything. His Legilimency on the boy the night he was chose told him he had not entered the Tournament himself, nor did he know who had. So the question remained: Who had entered Harry Evans in the Tournament and why?

* * *

Ronald Weasley was furious. How had Evans managed to stay alive in that Task? It was unbelievable. He had been sure so many times the boy had been about to die. The troll had been huge; one swipe of its club would have crushed Evans-hell the troll could have just stepped on him! The sphinx was pure luck; if the riddle was simple enough Evans could answer it there was no way it was very difficult, he thought. The chimera, though, was when he had really thought the boy was done for though. When the snake had sunk its fangs into Evans' arm he thought that was that. But the bastard just kept going! And had somehow managed to beat down the three headed dog long enough to retrieve the last crest. All in all it had been an awful thirty minutes for Ron Weasley.

It just wasn't fair, he thought. Why was it that Harry Evans, a pathetic halfblood stripped of his name, had been chosen Champion over himself? It just didn't make any sense. It was just one more instance of him being overlooked. It was the story of his life. He had five very skilled older brothers. Ginny was the first Weasley girl in generations so she was always mum's favorite. And Ron? Ron got all the hand me downs. Ron could never be the first to do anything in his family because one of his brothers had already done it, and probably done it better.

Head Boys, Prefects, Quidditch Captains, and so much more. Ron was almost exactly in the middle of his class. He didn't make the Quidditch team. Yet. Neville seemed the likely prefect choice over the two of them; he had better grades and less discipline infractions. But, he thought, I'm pureblood. It had been such a wonderful feeling when he had finally realized just what that meant. The envious looks in the eyes of the other students. The way his professors treated him differently than other students in his classes, like he was better. He was more important than they were.

His siblings may not have felt the way he did, but they didn't understand. They had always been special. Ginny as the only girl. Everyone thought Fred and George were hilarious and they always had each other. Not to mention their Quidditch ability. Percy was the perfect child-never getting into any trouble, made a prefect, and top of his class. Charlie had been Quidditch Captain and worked as a dragon handler. And Bill, well, had been the first born. He was the heir. He had also set the bar incredibly high. If you named it, Bill had done it. Now he was off working with Gringotts and making quite a bit of money. Ron couldn't yet say he was better than any of them, but he knew he was better than the mudbloods and halfbloods of the worlds. He was better than Harry Evans and Hermione Granger for instance. Which was why Evan's involvement, and success so far, in the Tournament was infuriating.

His parents had not brought him up to believe in pureblood supremacy by any means. He was well aware that they had fought against Voldemort in the war. His dad had told him about it before he went off to Hogwarts. When Voldemort had won, however, he had offered the family a deal. Swear allegiance to Voldemort and his government and they would be safe. Had they not had children, they may have done otherwise. But with nine children to take care of, his parents had accepted the offer. With the offer they had been elevated in Wizarding society. His dad had been promoted his mum had been given a house elf as a gift. Voldemort had done his best to welcome them to their rightful place in pureblood society. Some families, like the Malfoy's, may not get along with them, but that was alright. They were purebloods.

The whole notion that a halfblood like Evans was a Champion of Hogwarts was too ridiculous to be true. He didn't understand why Voldemort allowed it. Someone, Ron decided, needed to put the boy in his place. Luckily for him, he had already found the boy's weak spot earlier in the year: Granger. She was his adoptive sister. The girl was a know it all. Parkinson casting the Imperio on her had been a riot. He wish he knew what she was going to make the mudblood do, but thanks to Evans he would never know. He had wanted to see her humiliated though. The girl was constantly showing him up in classes. She would always be one of the first to perform a new spell in class and she always had the answer to a professor's questions. It was maddening. By going through her he would kill two birds with one stone so to speak. It was time to remind everyone why it was that the purebloods were superior. Evans would need to learn his place. Who better to teach it to him than me, Ron thought?

* * *

On her way to the stadium for the First Task Hermione's stomach was in a knot. When she saw what was in the arena waiting for her brother she had nearly thrown up. The thought of taking on just one of those things, let alone four in quick succession was madness. She couldn't believe the glee and cheers coming from the others in the stands. Didn't they realize the Champions were risking their lives? Of course they do, a part of her said, humans have always been animalistic. The scene before her almost seemed a copy of the days of the Colosseum. Dean and Seamus stood on either side of her and seemed to understand her anxiousness. They were not boisterous like the rest of the crowd but merely stood next to her and warned off anyone who approached them. Hermione was not in the mood to exchange small talk with people about the upcoming Task.

Viktor Krum had gone first. He had entered the arena blindfolded and on the back of a broom. He had reacted quickly once the blindfold had been removed; rushing the troll and casting a curse at his eyes. The troll had dropped his club and staggered around blindly as Krum darted towards the chest and removed two crests. He hadn't escaped the troll unscathed, though, as troll in his rage had kicked its club across the arena and smashing into Krum's back. The boy managed to crawl his way into the safe zone before the troll could do anything else, but the damage had been done.

He'd answered the sphinx's riddle next, but the chest had been empty. His next move had seen him Conjure a large mirror and place it in the area with the three headed dog. The guardian was distracted enough by the mirror that the Durmstrang Champion was able to slip past and secure the third crest. A limping Viktor Krum had been escorted from the arena, spitting up blood all the while. The judges had awarded him thirty five points. Seeing the first Champion beaten and battered as he left the arena had only heightened Hermione's sense of worry.

Edward Rosier had been the next competitor. Even blindfolded on the back of a broomstick he the boy retained a certain arrogance, Hermione thought. Rosier had been very impressive, she had to admit. He chose to try the chimera guardian first. He approached the guardian and had Conjured an enormous chain net with rocks attached to the bottom as weights. The sheer amount of power that would have taken was staggering. The net had fallen upon the chimera and trapped it. It thrashed and roared, but was unable to escape. Rosier had calmly walked past the trapped beast, throwing up a shield to block a jet of flame with a casualness that had left the crowd in awe, opened the chest and removed all three crests.

It had been an extraordinarily impressive and also lucky. The ease with which the boy had dispatched the chimera made Hermione wonder how he would have dealt with the other guardians. Would he have enough energy to deal with them all after that? He hadn't appeared phased with the amount of magic he had cast. An unharmed Rosier had left the arena to deafening cheers. He had been awarded thirty eight points by the judges.

The Beauxbatons Champion, Fleur Delacour, had used a large amount of fire to complete the task. The girl had started with the sphinx and had promptly answered the riddle and collected a crest. She broke the fire out on the three headed dog. She trapped it within a ring of fire, leaving it helpless to stop her as she darted past and collected yet another seal. The French girl was on a roll. Many of the males in the crowd seemed more interested in whistling and sending cat calls her way that cheering on her performance, Hermione noticed with irritation.

Despite her earlier panic about the Task, she was being sucked into the drama of it all. The close calls and quick thinking of the Champions had the entire crowd on its feet. To Hermione's disgust there had been a large cheer from the Hogwarts and Durmstrang students when Fleur had tried the fire trick on the chimera only to be hit with a taste of her own medicine as the chimera had connected with a jet steam of fire to the girl's torso.

The French Champion had let out a scream and quickly doused herself with water, but the fire had wreaked havoc on her. The jeers from the crowd had increased immensely when the flames burned out and revealed they had burned away a large section of the girl's robes. She had proven her toughness, however, making her way to the chest and claiming the third and final crest. Only then had she bothered to Conjure a new robe to cover herself. The burn on her side must've hurt terribly. The skin had already appeared to be a bright red. She had been awarded 34 points, points taken off undoubtedly for the injury she received.

Hermione's nerves returned in full force upon Harry's entrance to the arena. He had looked so small compared to the other Champions. Hermione buried her head in Dean's shoulder as Harry battled with the troll, but looked up when she heard him and Seamus yell in triumph to see Harry escaping with his first crest. He'd got one! And more importantly, he looked uninjured. She watched with bated breath as Harry correctly answered the sphinx's riddle and earned his second crest. Her silence broke when Harry challenged the chimera. The same guardian that Rosier had handled so easily nearly defeated Harry. She thought he'd downed it at first only to realize with horror that the snake's head had lunged over the animal's back and bitten her brother.

Blood had been pouring from his arm. He no longer moved smoothly, but staggered around. When he opened the third chest and found it empty, Hermione's heart broke. It was unbearable. Harry was running low on time, looked ready to fall over, and now had to get past a three headed dog.

Hermione had watched him do it. She knew Harry had retrieved the third crest. For the life of her, she couldn't remember how. She had been so terrified for him she had been unable to process it. Her throat was raw from screaming. She could feel the tears on her cheeks and hear Dean and Seamus telling her it was ok, that Harry was fine. And finally, she had believed them. The Ministry officials restrained the dog, with music of all things, and pulled a limp looking Harry out of the arena. The judges awarded him thirty two points, good enough for last place. Hermione did not see this. She was already running towards the medical tent, Dean and Seamus hot in pursuit.

* * *

Harry awoke with a moan. The bright light that struck his eyes was painful. With a strong effort, he forced himself to open his eyes fully and sit up. He was in a bed surrounded by white curtains. Everything was white. The curtains, the sheets, the pillow, everything. Except for his clothes which were covered in dirt and the bandage on his arm that was soaked through with blood. Memories of the Task came flashing back to him and he sank back down into the bed. That was only the First Task. What in the world did they have in mind for the final two? If it wasn't for that damn snakehead though, a part of him whispered, you could have made it out unharmed. At that thought, Harry felt a slight swell of pride. He had done it! He had completed the Task and he was alive! And he would get the clue since he had all of the crests.

Just then the sheets around his bed ripped open and Hermione threw herself on him.

"Thank Merlin, you're ok!" She cried into his chest. An out of breath Seamus and Dean stood behind her grinning.

"Excellent show, mate," Dean congratulated him.

"Yeah, other than the almost dying part, you did pretty well," Seamus laughed.

"Thanks, guy. Ah, Hermione? Can you move?"

"Oh. Sorry," she apologized as she climbed off. "You did really well, Harry."

"Yeah," he replied, "You know I got through those first two so easily I thought I'd give the crowd a little show at the end. Wouldn't want to disappoint, you know?"

"Prat," she scolded him while the two boys just laughed.

"Harry!" A familiar voice cut across the room and Harry's head jerked towards the opening behind Dean and Seamus.

"Mum?"

Standing behind the two boys was none other than Lily Evans. She rushed past the two boys and wrapped Harry in a tight hug.

"I have never been so terrified in my life," she said softly. "You were so brave out there, Harry. Your dad would have been so proud." She let out a strangled laugh at the last.

"What are you doing here?" Was all Harry could manage to say.

"You think my son could be selected as Champion in an international Tournament and I wouldn't come watch?" she asked in disbelief. "Hermione, if you weren't here to help him every step of the way I'm not sure he would have passed first year."

"Hey!" Harry protested only to be ignored while everyone shared a laugh.

"If you think that was bad, Ms. Evans, you should've seen Harry try and cast his first Summoner. Had a book smack him right in the face!" Seamus chimed in which brought a new bout of laughter.

"Says the guy who blew up his feather trying to cast a Levitation Charm," Harry retorted.

"I still maintain I made it float. I just made it float so fast I broke the sound barrier and it exploded."

"That doesn't even make sense!"

"You got hit in the face by a book!"

"Hermione," Lily broke in, "Find new friends."

"Guy battles magical beasts and trolls only to be made fun of by his mum," Harry complained. He didn't mean it though. He was thrilled his mum had made it, albeit a little surprised at how well she was taking everything. It was the first time he'd seen her since he'd been selected. He imagined she was a wreck during the Task. Speaking of the Task...

"Hey, do you guys know where the crests are? There's supposed to be a clue on the back." He saw his mum's face fall. "What? What happened?" The other three were looking at her in confusion as well.

"Harry," she said sadly, "They announced it right after they gave your said since you didn't have all three crests on you when the timer ran out, you wouldn't be able to keep them and see the clue. I'm sorry." She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"Bullshit," he heard Seamus mutter in the background. He agreed.

"What? But I found all of them!" He distinctly remembered his decision to leave the ones he found first in the middle of the arena so that he wouldn't lose them near one of the other guardians. He figured he'd be able to pick them all up as he left, but with how everything ended...

"Did everyone else get them all?" he held a small fraction of hope that the other Champions had messed up as well, that they'd still all be on even ground. The looks on the faces around him told him otherwise.

"They all held onto their crests," Lily said quietly. "You're in fourth place, two points behind the Beauxbatons Champion."

"Rosier won," Dean added sourly. "Lucky prat had all three in the first one he opened."

Disappointment shot through Harry. He had become overconfident he realized. He'd been dreaming of beating Rosier, even telling the paper he was going to win. Ugh, the paper, he realized. He was going to hear no end of trouble over that.

"We're all very proud of you, Harry," his mum said. "You did great out there. You're younger than everyone else and when it comes to scoring-"she paused. "Well, we know you won't be getting any points because they like you."

Harry knew she was right. He hadn't really considered it before, but two of the judges were former Death Eaters and one was Voldemort himself. Did he really except them to ever give him the benefit of the doubt? Or give him more points than Rosier? Fat chance of that.

"You did us proud, mate," Seamus declared. "You were the only one who beat all four guards."

"Thanks, Seamus." There was a small grain of consolation in that; he could say he was the only Champion to defeat all the guardians. It didn't make him feel any better about being in last place, but it was still kind of cool.

"Indeed, an admirable performance, Harry Evans." As if on a string, all five heads jerked around to see who had spoken.

"I was particularly impressed that you fought on even after the snake bite. I am told Madam Pomfrey had to work very quickly to prevent any permanent damage."

Harry just stared blankly. He couldn't think of anything to say. After all, it wasn't every day the ruler of Wizarding Britain visited you in the infirmary.

"Thank you," he finally managed to choke out.

"What are you doing here?" his mum hissed. She was glaring at the man with obvious hate. Voldemort merely arched an eyebrow in response.

"I am here to offer my congratulations to one of Hogwart's Champions," he replied smoothly. "Though I do have an ulterior motive, Ms. Evans, as you suspect. Regrettable as it is, Mr. Evans, I must ask your friends and family to leave now. We have something to discuss."

"He's my son. If you have something to say to him, you can say it with me here," Lily declared. Harry glanced between the two warily.

"It's ok, Mum," he said. "I'll see you after. Thank you for coming to watch." Voldemort may have said he was asking, but Harry was aware of an order when he heard one. His mum's intention were good, but he didn't want to see what would happen if she refused the man.

Reluctantly, Lily let herself be pulled away by Hermione. Dean and Seamus fell in behind the pair and suddenly Harry was alone with Voldemort. Telling his mum to go away seemed like a terrible plan now.

"Mr. Evans," he began, "Tell me, are you aware of the terrorist group known as the Marauders?"

"What?" Harry asked, confused. What did that have to do with anything? "Yeah, I've heard of them. Why?"

"The Marauders, Mr. Evans," Voldemort said as he walked closer to his bed, "Are a group that is intent on overthrowing my government and plunging this country into chaos. We have only just recovered from the last war," which you caused, Harry though viciously, "And yet they would have us suffer through yet another. People die in wars, Mr. Evans, as you know all too well."

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry asked impatiently, "What has this got to do with me?"

Voldemort's eyes flashed red.

"Never interrupt me, Mr. Evans, or you will beg for another round with the chimera. I will let it slide once. Once." Harry swallowed nervously. He needed to remember who he was talking to.

"The reason I tell you this, Mr. Evans, is because you are positioned quite nicely to become a figure head for them. You see, in order to stay alive, members of their little group must remain anonymous. Now, I'm well aware who the ring leaders are, but if they showed their faces in public for even a second they would be struck dead."

"They must remain hidden in the shadows," he continued, "Else be eradicated like the vermin they are. You, however, are a halfblood. You are a Champion of Hogwarts. They could easily attempt to rally the people behind you. Turn you into a symbol even. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"Yes," Harry replied nervously. Did Voldemort think he was part of the Marauders? What was he going to do?"

"I am well aware you are not associated with those terrorists, Mr. Evans." What the bloody hell? Had Voldemort just read his mind? Harry diverted his eyes from Voldemort's.

"The reason I am telling you this is for one reason. Do not give them opportunity. Compete as hard as you can in the Tasks. Under no circumstances are you to give interviews to anyone other than Rita Skeeter. I will not have you telling a reporter anything that those terrorists could use to inflame the population. If you do so, if you show any sign of support towards them, if I so much as have a suspicion you are in contact with them or are aiding them in any way, I will kill you family. Your sister and your mother will have deaths more excruciating than you can imagine. Now, what will you refrain from doing?"

Harry was numb. Had he really just threatened to kill his family? Where was all of this coming from?

"Mr. Evans, I will not ask again." Voldemort's voice jolted Harry out of his stupor.

"I will not give interviews to anyone other than Rita Skeeter," he replied automatically. "I won't show any kind of support towards the Marauders."

"Or else?"

"You'll kill my family."

"Wonderful. I'm glad we had this chance to chat, Mr. Evans. Congratulations once again on your performance. It is a shame you could not retain all three crests. Until next time, Mr. Evans."

Harry sat alone in his bed after Voldemort had left. Everything the man had said was still sinking in. The threats on Hermione and his mum. What if he made some show of support without realizing it? Voldemort had said that if he had the slightest suspicion they would die.

And who the hell were these Marauders?! Because of them his family's lives were at stake! A flash or rage swept through Harry. It was all so unfair! He hadn't asked for any of this!

It doesn't matter if you asked for it or not, he thought. It's happening. So what are you going to do about it?

He needed to find out more about these Marauders. If Voldemort was this concerned about them they were clearly more of a threat than anyone realized.

He needed to protect his family.

Right now, though, he had to get out of last place. If he couldn't even win the Tournament, how could he protect his family from Voldemort? Or even from the Marauders if it came to that?

He needed to get stronger. These people had killed his father and stolen his name. Now they were screwing him over in the Tournament.

The line should have been drawn long ago, he realized. Better late than never.

It was time to fight back.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter. Thanks to for his help editing this chapter!

* * *

_Rosier Triumphs!_

_Evans Falls Flat_

_by Rita Skeeter_

_"I'm going to win," Harry Evans proclaimed in the days leading up to the First Task._

_Pride cometh before the fall, so they say. The TriWizard Tournament started off with a bang, or perhaps roar is a more apt way of putting it, with a hellacious First Task. The four Champions were charged with collecting a seal representing each of the three participating schools. The catch? The crests were randomly distributed into four chests which were guarded by a variety of beasts including a monstrous three headed dog, a troll, a fierce sphinx, and a deadly chimera._

_Each Champion battled bravely, and all located their crests, though some with more ease than others. Edward Rosier staked himself an early lead in the competition by correctly choosing a chest that contained all three school crests. Displaying a level of power that left those in attendance in awe, Rosier dispatched the chimera with ease and earned a nearly perfect score of 38 out of 40 points. Rosier looked every part the Champion he was chosen to be and remained humble even in victory._

_"I simply had a feeling that I should try the chimera first," Rosier said, "I never imagined I would find all three at once. I was pleased, but also somewhat disappointed I was unable to test myself against the other guardians. My fellow Champions performed very bravely. The next two Tasks will be a welcome challenge."_

_A Hogwart's victory! And yet, a Hogwart's embarrassment. After his confident prediction of victory, Harry Evans took the full thirty minutes to find his three crests, compared to the just over two minutes it took Rosier. Even worse for the fourth Champion: the judges ruled that he would not be able to use the crests to view the clue for the Second Task because he did not have them all on his person at the time. The results? Last place. Six points off the overall lead and two points behind third place Champion Fleur Delacour._

_It seems that Hogwarts may have found its true Champion in Edward Rosier. As for Harry Evans? Well, I suppose every castle is in need of a jester._

"A jester?" Seamus stated, disgust plain on his face. "You? A jester? First a Champion now you're the jester? Leave something for the rest of us, will you?"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Seamus," he said, "Shut up."

"For a jester you sure are a buzz kill," the Irish boy responded.

The two, along with Dean and Hermione, were sitting in the boy's dorm going over the article. It was strange, Harry thought, that their little group had formed. He had always been friendly with the two boys, but lately the four of them had become nearly inseparable. It would make sneaking off to train with Regulus more challenging, but it was well worth the extra effort. The two boys had a way of lightening the mood. Unfortunately, Harry wasn't in the mood at the moment.

"I hate that woman, I really do," he announced to the room.

"It was a little arrogant of you to predict victory," Hermione pointed out.

Harry glared at her.

"Thanks for the support, sis," he bit out sarcastically.

"Calm your tits, Evans," Seamus chided, "No need to take your anger out on, Hermione."

"Thank you, Seamus," Hermione said, somewhat surprised.

"Not a problem. Besides, if Harry pisses you off and you leave, whose Transfiguration essay am I going to copy?"

"Glad you guys are having so much fun with this," Harry said.

"Oh, lighten up, Harry," Dean answered. "Yeah, you got screwed, but you didn't die and you aren't even that far behind the other Champions. I expected you to be upset about not getting the seals, but you were alright when we left you with You-Know-Who. What happened between you guys?" His friends all eyed him curiously. Harry hadn't told them yet the contents of his conversation with Voldemort; he wasn't sure how they would take it. Especially Hermione who had been threatened by the man. Then again, he thought, he couldn't block his friends out. The Tournament alone was challenging enough, but tossing Voldemort into the equation made his life that much more difficult. He looked Hermione in the eye.

"He threatened to kill you and mum if he thinks I'm helping the Marauders in any way."

Silence met his declaration. To no one's surprise, Seamus was the one to shatter it.

"Well, fuck."

"Eloquent as always, mate," Dean said with a grin. Harry was watching Hermione however. Her face had paled slightly at his statement, but he gaze was growing determined.

"Why would he think you are assisting the Marauders?" she asked.

"Claimed that they could use my as a poster boy. Halfblood taking on the purebloods and all, you know. Seems to think they could turn me being into the Tournament into a political statement," Harry explained.

"Why bother to tell you though?" She pressed, "What difference does it make? It's not like you have any control over their actions."

"You've got me, Hermione," he said resignedly, "I'm not to give interview to anyone but Skeeter so I don't make Britain look bad in the press with all the international papers here."

"So if these Marauders make you into a symbol, through no fault of your own, me and your mum will be killed?"

"Sums it up pretty nicely. You don't become the dictator of a country being a nice guy, I guess," Harry said.

"There's only one thing to do then, really isn't there?" Hermione questioned.

"If we're fleeing the country I'm putting my vote in for the States. Or the Caribbean. Anywhere but France, honestly," Seamus announced.

"Shut up, Seamus," Hermione replied. "No one's fleeing anywhere. It wouldn't do any good anyway. If Voldemort wanted one of us dead he could easily send someone to any country to take care of us. No, we need to learn to defend ourselves. To fight back."

As Hermione talked, Harry's grin grew larger and larger. He never should have doubted her. Hermione was tough. She might be frightened by Voldemort's threat, she'd be crazy not to be, but she wasn't one to back down. She had come to the same realization he had back in the tent. If they were going to get through this mess they would need to be able to take care of themselves. Dean had a look of slight surprise on his face, but Seamus looked determined.

"My thoughts exactly," Harry replied to Hermione. "We need to start training. Learning more spells, how to fight, how to get stronger. We have the perfect excuse to if any teachers catch us using questionable spells. We can just say you're helping me train for the Tournament."

"You've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?" she asked.

"Since Voldemort left the tent."

"You two are bloody mental," Seamus said. "I love it. Count me in. Dean?"

"I'll do what I can," he said, "Dueling isn't my strong suit though."

"You're strong in Potions though," Harry reminded him, "You've been working with Seamus for years and haven't blown up nearly as many cauldrons as you should have."

"Fair point," the Irish boy agreed affably, "Plus you aren't too shabby at healing spells. Remember when Turpin broke my nose and you fixed it up?"

"Wait, when did Turpin break your nose?" Harry asked, baffled.

"That's neither here nor there," Seamus declared loudly, "The point is Dean's in and I'm in and Turpin's a bint. Now where's your Transfiguration essay, Hermione?"

* * *

The group had agreed to train as often as possible after classes; they could find an abandon classroom under the pretense of training Harry for the Tournament. Hermione had launched into the training with a fervor usually reserved for exams and was currently scouring the library for any useful books that could aid the group in their efforts. Dean had surprisingly followed her to the library and begun looking up healing and medical spells. Seamus had called them both wankers and began religiously copying Hermione's essay which he had swiped from her bag when she wasn't looking. Harry, meanwhile, was bouncing around an abandoned room in the dungeon dodging spells.

"You've got to move, Evans!" Black shouted at him while silently casting spell after spell. "Never stand still, you become a stationary target and you're done for!"

Harry ducked under a bright red spell before dropping to his stomach and rolling away from a pale yellow curse. Most of the spells Black was sending were low level jinxes and the like, but he liked to mix in far more damaging ones if he felt Harry wasn't moving fast enough. He'd let Harry gasp under a Strangulation hex for thirty seconds to drive the point home earlier in the session.

"You're standing still," Harry pointed out between gasps as he jumped over a low flying Stunner.

"I'm not in a duel, I'm throwing spells," Black pointed out. A large net blasted from the man's wand, catching Harry by surprise. He tried to avoid it, but it was too big and he was too close to it. He wound up wrapped up, lying on his back.

"And I am more skilled than you at the present," Black said, looking down at him. "If you can reach the level of Voldemort, feel free to stand as still as a rock and throw spells at your opponent. But until then, shield and move. Frustrate your opponent and victory will be yours." With a flick of his wand the net covering Harry disappeared. "That's it for tonight. Keep practicing your shielding and use a piercing hex on something to work on your accuracy."

"Yes, sir." Harry clambered to his feet and went to fetch his bag from the corner of the room. As he neared the door he paused and looked back at his Professor. "Sir?"

"Curfew's coming, Evans."

"I know, sir. I was just wondering, before the First Task, you said my father would have been proud of me. Did you know my father, Professor?" Black's face remained impassive as he slowly walked towards Harry.

"Yes," he said quietly. "I knew your father. He was a few years ahead of me during school. My brother was good friends with him."

"Your brother, sir?" Harry asked surprised. "But didn't you.." he trailed off as he realized what he had been about to say.

"Yes, Evans," he said indulgently, "I fought against your father in the war. And my brother as well. War is a harsh reality, Mr. Evans, and makes many people do things they otherwise would not have. Before the war, however, I attended school with your father and got the measure of him. He was a good man, albeit more arrogant than you would believe. He had a rather nasty rivalry with our illustrious Headmaster back in the day, you know."

"Professor Snape?" Harry asked, surprised. "No, I didn't know."

Professor Black eyed Harry shrewdly.

"Do not mention what I have told you to anyone else, Mr. Evans. The Headmaster retains a special hate for your father, even after all these years. Bringing up memories better left forgotten would only lead to trouble."

"I understand, sir." Harry's mind was racing though. Professor Black had known his father, but he had fought against him? And now he was training Harry? He didn't know what to make of it.

"Have you ever heard of Occlumency, Evans?" The question tore Harry from his thoughts.

"Occlumency? No, sir. Should I have?"

"It would have been unexpected, but not wholly shocking had you known it. I suggest you and Miss Granger research it in the library. There should be a few tomes in the Restricted Section on the matter. Here," Black Conjured a piece parchment and scribbled something on it before handing it to Harry, "A pass. Do not abuse this pass, Mr. Evans, or I will know. Learn Occlumency. It is highly important, I assure you." The professor exited the room, leaving Harry standing alone, his mind still racing.

* * *

"Find anything good?" Dean asked as he followed Hermione out of the library.

"Several promising books, but I won't know for sure until I really get a chance to study them. It's a shame you and Seamus aren't in Runes. There's quite a bit of useful material we'll be able to use from it," she answered. She had indeed found a number of books that covered advanced material or spells that weren't covered in the curriculum. Thank Merlin for charmed bags, she thought, or she wouldn't be able to lift her bag.

"We'll leave that to you and Harry," Dean laughed, "I'll be busy enough trying to figure out these books on Healing, and Seamus...well Seamus is really good at blowing things up."

The two shared a laugh at the Irish boy's expense as they made their way back to the common room.

"You two have really been great this year, you know," Hermione said. "This Tournament really shook Harry up I think. You two have a way of lightening the mood and taking his mind off of it. Having you two around also helps keep some of those idiots like Ron wary about trying anything again."

"I think Harry did a pretty good job of deterring them himself," Dean answered. "That was incredible the way he fought off those guys the night he was chosen. I meant what I said that night: Harry can get pretty scary when he's angry."

"They deserved what they got," Hermione answered defensively. "Those three bit off more than they could chew and paid for it."

"Whoa, calm down, Hermione," he said, "I agree with you. I was just saying that if anyone's scaring off more attacks by the likes of Weasley and people like him, its Harry. Not to mention his brilliant sister," he added cheekily.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but blushed lightly at the praise nonetheless.

"Oh, bugger," Dean sighed and suddenly came to a stop. "I've forgotten my wand! I set it down on the table when I was packing up and forgot to pick it up."

"You forgot your wand?" Hermione asked incredulously. "How did you manage that?"

"Hell if I know," he muttered. "You head on back, I'll run back and get it then meet you in the common room."

"You sure? I can come with you, I don't mind."

"Nah, go on ahead. I'll go fast so I don't miss curfew. See you in the tower!" He shouted over his shoulder as he jogged back towards the library.

Dean was a nice enough person, Hermione thought as she continued on without him, but forgetting his wand? How in the world does someone do that? Lily had driven that point home to her and Harry before they had ever started Hogwarts: no matter where you go, make sure you always have your wand. Without it, you're defenseless.

The memory of Lily instructing Harry and herself on the importance of wands sent a rush of affection through her. Discovering she was a witch had been one of the most confusing and worst days of her life. She could remember seeing the book on the top shelf that she wanted to read, she could still see it just out of her reach. She had wanted it so badly that it had suddenly lifted off the shelf and floated into her hand. She had been baffled, but excited.

Then she heard the cracks of what she now knew to be Apparition. One man had grabbed her and she saw another advancing towards her mum in the kitchen when she had disappeared. She had been Apparated away from her home and her parents without the chance to say goodbye. The next few days of her life had been a whirlwind. What she did remember though was meeting Harry.

She had been at St. Mungos when the small black haired boy had discovered her crying in the hallway, waiting to be examined. He had given her a tissue and when she still didn't stop crying, he had snuck into a room meant for the Healers and stolen a scone for her. It had been the first food she had been given in the nearly twenty four hours since she had been abducted. She didn't remember what they had talked about, but she remembered the despair she felt when she had been taken to the orphanage and Harry stayed at the hospital. And she remembered the joy she felt when Harry had showed up with Lily at the orphanage the next day and taken her to their home.

"Cutting it pretty close to curfew, Mudblood." The taunting voice tore Hermione from her reminiscing.

"Somehow I think I can manage the fifty feet to the common room in the next ten minutes, Weasley," she answered sarcastically.

"Can you now?" he asked with a smirk. "Surprising really. Because it seems that I'm between you and the common room." The ginger boy leaned back against the wall and casually twirled his wand. Hermione eyed it warily and her hand brushed against her own wand which was stashed up her sleeve.

"Why should that matter? Planning on blocking me from getting back, Weasley? You might want to reconsider. If you think I'm intimidated by you, you're sorely mistaken." She kept her eyes locked on Ron as his smirk grew even larger.

"No? You should be. Think because we give you a wand and let you come to Hogwarts we actually want you here? Not a chance. You're garbage, Granger. You don't belong here. You should be stripped of whatever little magic you have and shipped off to your muggle parents. Too bad they don't remember you, do they?" Hermione's anger flared at the boy in front of her. Her parents would have been Obliviated of any memory of her. With difficulty, she reigned her temper in. Or at least attempted to.

"Don't belong here? If you pathetic purebloods didn't get bonus points in class for practically being siblings with your parents, I would be top of the class. And you know it."

"Top of the class?" Ron laughed. "Please. You wouldn't be. And even if you were, it wouldn't matter. You're a mudblood. Want to know what's going to happen after school? I get any job I want. You? Well, if you're lucky maybe I'll give you a job keeping my bed warm."

"Paying a girl really could be the only way you could get a girl in your bed, isn't it, Weasley? There wouldn't be enough money in the world, you inbred imbecile." She glared at the boy and her wand had slid down into her hand. His eyes had flashed dangerously and for the first time his smirk wavered.

"Don't you get it, Granger?" he asked, taking a step towards her. "I could do whatever I wanted to you right now, and you couldn't do a thing about it. Remember when Pansy had you on your knees in front of the whole class? That's where you belong. In fact," the boy's smirk returned with a vengeance, "if you get on your knees for me right now, I'll let you back into the common room."

"Drop dead, you bastard," she snapped. Her face was flushed red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

"Wrong answer, mudblood." His wand darted forward, but Hermione was faster. Without a word, she threw up a shield between the two of them before quickly snapping of a Disarming spell. In such close quarters, Ron was unable to dodge and his wand sailed behind him. The hex he had cast before he was struck bounced harmlessly off Hermione's shield. Hermione grinned victoriously; helping Harry practice for the Tournament had improved her own dueling skills.

"Now who doesn't belong here, Weasley?" she asked vindictively.

"That would be you."Hermione whirled around when she heard the voice behind her, but it was too late. A green spell she didn't recognize slammed into her and threw her backwards into the wall. She lost her wand and her vision was spinning.

"Nice timing, Smith," she heard Ron say above her.

"I can't believe the mudblood disarmed you," a voice answered him.

"She got lucky. Besides, she's the wandless one now."

Hermione's vision focused enough for her to see a furious Ron Weasley standing above her, wand in hand.

"I think it's time she learned to respect her betters, don't you, Smith?" he asked. The boy in question, Zacharias Smith, stepped forward and sneered down at Hermione.

"Mudblood trash. We are your superiors," he declared. "And this," he gestured at the three of them, "This is your new reality. Get used to it, mudblood." He slashed his wand down in a violent gesture and Hermione lost consciousness.

* * *

Harry was still lost in his thoughts as he left the dungeons and made his way back to the Gryffindor common room, which is why he failed to hear someone rounding the same corner as him and collided.

"Oh, sorry!" he apologized.

"Watch where you are going!"

"Fleur?"

"Ah, Harry. I apologize I did not see you," the French Champion said. She didn't seem very sorry, Harry noted.

"My fault," he responded, "Lost in thoughts, you know."

"So you do think sometimes?" She asked with a laugh. "I was starting to wonder after your bold prediction and following performance." What the hell is her problem, he thought?

"Yeah, well I thought the officiating was a little shady. Technically I had all the crests."

"Excuses, Evans, are for those unable to win on their own merits," she returned. Merlin, she was in a bitch mood. Harry's annoyance level climbed higher.

"Yeah, that's me," he retorted, "Take out all four guardians, years younger than you three, and screwed out of my crests. If you've got a problem with me why not just come out and say it? Ever stop to think if I hadn't been tricked into this Tournament, you'd be in last place right now?" He could feel her aura flare up and her eyes flashed angrily.

"I was under the impression you might be different from the rest of this nation of bigots and bastards, Evans. I was disappointed to find out you are nothing more than a braggart. I'll-"

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Fleur was cut off and Harry gave an audible sigh at the sound of the voice.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" he asked, turning around to face the smirking boy. He was flanked on either side by his lackeys Crabbe and Goyle.

"Now, now, Evans, mind your manners. We heard a commotion up here and wondered what was going on. Weren't we, boys?" he asked over his shoulder. Crabbe nodded obediently while Goyle gazed openly at Fleur. Malfoy noticed.

"Snap out of it, Goyle," he ordered. "Don't waste your time looking on a halfbreed like her." Harry's hand gripped his wand in anger, but Fleur reacted first.

"What did you call me, boy?!" she demanded. Malfoy's eyebrows arched.

"Boy? Do you know who you are speaking to, you creature? I am Draco Malfoy. My father is more powerful than you can imagine. It would be wise not to insult me."

"Would you prefer she call you girl next time?" Harry queried. He needed to diffuse the situation. Fleur could probably wipe the floor with the three of them, well at least Crabbe and Goyle, but Malfoy was right. His father had power and they were in England, not France. As big of a bitch as Fleur was currently acting, Harry still didn't want to see Malfoy make her life hell.

"Shut it, Evans. You should be embarrassed to be meeting up with this creature. You at least have some decent blood in you. She's a halfbreed, a creature. She's good for one thing and one thing only. Isn't that right, Delacour? Your kind belongs on the corner in Knockturn Alley, not in Hogwarts."

Fleur whipped her wand out, but Harry quickly smacked it to the floor.

"Don't," he warned and grabbed her wrist when she went to pick it up.

"Smart move, Evans," Malfoy said softly. "Listen to the halfblood, creature. Watch where you point your wand or you'll find out just how different we do things here. You aren't in France anymore. You are nothing here. Evans is nothing here. He knows his place. Learn from him, or you'll find trouble. Let's go." The Slytherins disappeared down the stairs to the dungeons and Fleur threw Harry's hand off her arm.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" she shouted, rage on her face. "You let him talk to me like that? Let him talk to you like that?!"

"Yes," Harry said through gritted teeth. "He's right. This isn't France. You haven't seen what I've seen around here, Fleur. We could have pulled our wands just now and cursed the living hell out of them. Want to know what happens next?"

"I don't care what happens next, he begs forgiveness is what happens-"

"The Cruciatus happens next. We curse Malfoy tonight, I get Crucio'd tonight and then his father will come and Crucio me again in the morning. Maybe you too. This isn't France and things aren't fair here. Deal with it."

"Cruciatus? It is illegal-"

"Not in Britain."

"Still, you cannot let him get away with it!"

"With what? Words? That was nothing. He can talk all he wants. Hell, that was light. I'm shocked you haven't faced worse yet so far. Malfoy's an ass, but he's not twisted. He's not a sadist. Plenty others around here are. I wouldn't wonder around here alone at night if I were you."

"I am not afraid of them. I will not be intimidated. You did not strike me as a coward, Harry Evans."

"And you don't strike me as a fool. There is a difference between cowardice and intelligence. Malfoy will get his one day. And so will Rosier and every other bastard in this castle. I'll make sure of it. You don't get revenge striking out at the first provocation though. We learned that here a long time ago."

Fleur stared at him a moment longer before plucking her wand off the ground and marching past him towards the doors without a word.

Sighing, Harry watched her go. She'd been lucky. Malfoy had been unusually restrained in their encounter. He'd expected it to end far worse. Weird night, he thought as he walked up the stairway. A thudding sound coming down the stairs made him draw his wand. He took a step back and hoped his night wasn't about to go from bad to worse. Seamus leaped around the corner and his eyes locked in on Harry.

"There you are! I've been looking for you all over! Where the bloody hell where you?"

"I was...wait, why were you looking for me?" Harry asked, alarmed. He took in the panicked look on Seamus' face. "What's happened?"

"It's Ron," the boy said hoarsely. "He got Hermione."


End file.
